- Prologue -

For so many years, anarchy reigned. Children were sent to their deaths in deadly combat, most being sent home in a small box, wrapped in paper to stop blood spilling everywhere. Families struggled, living off bare essentials and slowly starving themselves to keep their children alive. Those in the upper echelons of society frowned upon the poorer of us, applauding when we were sent to our deaths. Then came the peace. Rebellion resulted in a hard fought victory, and for just under a decade the Capitol were crushed, replaced by a new mini-country: The Republic.

President Paylor granted happiness to the land, returning the produce they had created. Paylor effectively undid all the work that Snow had done. The Hunger Games was scrapped in favour of a new project: The Harvest. During this time the districts would all be showered with extra resources, an extra injection of life into the system. Nobody died by the government's hand. Everybody was happy. The districts were free to trade with each other, making money, living in relative peace and having the food to survive any harsh winter. Nobody expected what was to come next.

The Republic turned on its people, lead by a tyrannical, homicidal maniac, President Orcus. He dethroned Paylor by force, killing him behind our backs and taking advantage of his position to ascend to the throne. Nobody suspected him at first, until he revealed his true intentions. The first metaphorical bombshell was the announcement that he was of Capitol heritage. This angered some but was accepted by many, believing that things had changed between our people. It was only when Orcus reinstated the Hunger Games that we realised nothing had changed.

Orcus gathered a small army, equipping them with the strongest weapons Panem had, stored in a vault underneath the President's house since the end of the rebellion. The army, nicknamed the Crimson Detachment for their lethal tactics in every situation, patrolled the streets, crushing any form of hope. By the end of the year the districts were poorer than ever, with trade being stopped and all resources being redirected to the Republic. Those that opposed this ruling were quickly and publicly executed with no mercy. If we weren't before, the people were now well and truly desensitized to violence. The many who died fighting to remove President Snow had died in vain.

The reaping began at the start of the year after Orcus took over, on his 1st anniversary of becoming President. He decided to try and forget about everything that happened before. Katniss was still alive, the rebel who sparked the revolution. It was rumoured Orcus was planning to kill her, but it hadn't happened, yet. In a final act of burying the old Games', Orcus began anew, and so it came to pass that I would be placed in the reaping ball for the 1st Annual Hunger Games.

- 21st March : The Reaping Day & Orcus' Day -

I drift through the crowds of people, all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the action on stage. Two of the Crimson Detachment stand with shotguns, something we've become all too familiar with in the past year. I hear the unmistakeable chord of crying children, coupled with a pang of guilt that I can do nothing to help them. They are, for all intents and purposes, in the Republic's custody now. If they run they'll die before the Games even begin. A loud shot can be heard in the distance, and a drop of blood lands on my forehead. Stifled screams surround me, as a limp body collapses off the stage. They could still be alive, but it's doubtful. I quickly use my hand to scrub away the blood, and see the red stain on the back of my wrist. I bite my lip, but the discomfort I feel is nothing compared to the sight of the blood on my hand. Even now, nobody helps the half-dead child on the ground. They know that helping them will only get themselves killed too. No video is played onstage, unlike the Games' of the past. It's a change, but a welcome one.

The buildings around me seem to be growing taller, intimidating me as the mentors make their way onto the stage. Cindel isn't much to look at, the only female victor Three has ever had, but Bezel looks like a physical powerhouse. Not surprising, seeing as since he won his Games he has been working again, helping construct the heavy servers that keep Panem's electricity alive. Well, the Republic's electricity, anyway. Bezel takes a seat, never really one for talking, while Cindel steps up to a glass podium. Orcus' soldiers watch her with their fingers on the trigger dare she say anything that could harm the President. The ground feels like it's shaking, but looking around nobody else seems to be suffering as I am, meaning it's either one of two things. I'm extremely worried I may get reaped, or there's a very isolated earthquake going on. I assume the former.

'It's nice seeing everyone back together again. It's been a long time since we had a gathering like this, though I don't think that this is quite the same kind of celebration.'

Cindel begins her speech in a calm tone, provoking the soldiers from the beginning. Even the question that the Games aren't all they're cracked up to be causes one of them to move his sights slightly towards Cindel. She's unfazed, pretending not to have noticed. For a moment I swear one of the soldiers looks straight at me. I close my eyes. I'd rather not see the guns on stage.

'Anyway, I'm up here to introduce myself. For the few who don't know me, my name is Cindel. Me and my pal Bezel over here are going to make sure at least one of you comes out of that arena alive. We don't know what's in there but you'll be prepared for it. Now the introductions are over I'll skip ahead to the formalities. Since the last Games over a decade ago a few things have changed. Firstly, some rule changes. The countdown on the launch pad has been reduced to five seconds. We enjoy surprises.'

I don't.

'Secondly, this year you will have no escort. The only people travelling with you will be your mentors. And finally, not only will big events happen in Quarter Quells, but each year a wild-card will be drawn, keeping the Games fresh and unique!'

Oh joy, more surprises. I open my eyes to see Cindel wasting no time finishing the rule changes, moving on to the three glass bowls. They are significantly more filled than they would usually be with the influx of births when the revolution was won. There is a mass of twelve-year olds standing about fifty metres to my left. I pity them, being crammed into such a small place with nowhere to run. The District Three centre is large, but not big enough to accommodate everyone comfortably. Most of the parents are down streets, watching on floating screens. The whole event is being broadcast live across Panem.

'As I'm already up here, I may as well draw for the ladies!'

The crowd becomes pensive, waiting for the words to spill out of Cindel's mouth. Roughly eight thousand parents are about to sigh with relief. Two pairs will go home and cry the night away.

'Pearl Vries!'

My heart sinks as I turn to see one of the many twelve-year olds slowly stagger to the stage. Watching her climb the stairs in her little green dress with her brown flowing hair only shows how young the Tributes can be. Cindel tries to sit Pearl down as the tiny girl cries into her palms, while Bezel steps up the grasp a small piece of paper with his large, muscular hands. He picks up two, and after placing one back in the bowl he leans into the microphone. A small amount a feedback is heard in the background as his voice booms:

'Morgan Averett.'

It's only when I feel hands pushing me towards the stage that I realise my name has been called. It takes the walk from the crowd to my spot on the stage for it to sink in. I dwarf the girl next to me. She can only be twelve at the oldest, standing about five feet tall, while I tower over her at seventeen and around six feet, seven inches. Instantly I see that the only way she could possibly live is if she can run and hide. Something I absolutely can't do. Cindel takes to the podium again and frowns at us slightly, and it's visible in her face that she has concern for us. She forces a smile for the audience before she plunges her hand into a third dome, daintily plucking out a shiny gold envelope. She opens it and her face twists into one of shock.

'And the wild-card, ladies and gentlemen; there will be no weapons in the Cornucopia.'