A/N: Welcome, welcome, welcome! To the FORTY FIRST HUNGER GAMES! For all those who read my first sponsor fic, welcome back, but it's never too late to read and get points! This is NOT a SYOT, all these characters were made by me, but all of you are able to sponsor! The points from my first story (Voices) will transfer, but my prices are pretty cheap, so feel free to come and review and get points! The story starts Day One of the Games, and all 24 Tributes will get a small POV, then it's up to you to pick your favorites. I split them up with 8 per chapter. I used a random generator to decide the POV order so it goes in no specific order of tributes! To get points, check out the system at the bottom! Thanks for reading this extremely long AN!
P.S. THIS CHAPTER IS REALLY LONG BUT I PROMISE ONCE I'M DONE WITH INTROS THE CHAPTERS SHOULD BE CONSIDERABLY SHORTER!
Arrogance is nothing unless you have the skill to back it up.
REGINALD'S POV
Captain Reginald Holloway.
Son to a single mother. Acquaintance. Training partner. Fisher.
District 4 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.
A Career. Quiet but clever. Proper. Observant. Smart. Reaped, but determined.
Short, brown hair. Sea-green eyes. Tall. Skinny. Not usually wearing a smile. Just a little physical description.
My dream was to follow in the footsteps of my family and join the Capitol's Secret Regiment later in the year. My Dad is always away from the house, leaving me with my Mom. I wanted to join the ranks with him. Hence why I embrace the title of Captain that I got back home in District 4.
From my very limited training with guns, I know how to at least shoot a target with a projectile, which is why I want a bow and arrow when we get out there.
Nobody in District 4 volunteered for me when I got reaped, which is a little unfortunate considering they won't want a Victor running around in a secret Capitol Organization.
I suppose winning the Hunger Games is an honor in itself, but to me it'll barely ever be the same. After all, you don't get medals for that. And we all know that I appreciate medals. And if you don't know, I promise that you'll find it out pretty quick.
The One girl, Candle, stands immediately next to me. On the other side, the boy from 12.
I won't elaborate on the Arena too much, but it's unlike anything I've ever seen. It looks as if we've just been thrown into a child's toy box. I wasn't sure what to expect, but in a million years, I would've never been able to guess this.
The clock hits 20 and I give a nod to Candle next to me, looking for the other members of our alliance. One thing I've found that Candle, Fabian, Laurentina, and especially Pride have in common is their arrogance. They all claim that they're superhuman, that they can do anything that's thrown at them. But, come on, every human has their faults. And arrogance is nothing unless you have the skill to back it up. A lot of them don't.
I try to be humble outwardly, and not too arrogant inside either, but when it comes down to raw skill, words will disappear and I will win the Hunger Games.
It's all unfair. But there's nothing we can do about it now.
RHETT'S POV
Rhett Wimberly.
Best friend. Loving son. Coworker.
District 5 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.
Unafraid to speak out. Bold. Loud. Strong-willed, but not violent.
Pale skin. Brown eyes. Blonde hair. Short, small, only 12. Reaped unfairly.
I hate the Hunger Games. I hate the Capitol. I've been saying that for days and days, weeks and weeks, years and years of my life. I already don't like this, I've never liked it, I never will like it. The Arena's just a load of crap, just like the Games. It's annoying, bright and colorful, all made of scratchy wood that'll only splinter us up.
The clock is ticking away the seconds of all our lives at a pace that seems way to fast. They have to have hijacked it, those can't be real seconds. They go faster and faster as the final minute of our lives ticks on and on and we stand on our stupid metal plates, preparing to kill each other.
The others are annoying and I won't ally with any of them. I'm going to die helplessly and District 5 is going to go nuts about my death. I can feel it. I didn't even care to train because I already know I'm going to die day one. I don't even care about getting supplies because I'm going to die. There is no hope. I'm only 12 years old, after all.
I can't believe this is happening! I can't believe anyone would be Ok with doing something like this! Life is so unfair to me, a poor little boy from District 5 with no hope left! My whole life has been nothing but unfair, having to work for money and having to study stupid crap at school, and now being doomed by these Hunger Games!
It's all unfair.
But there's nothing we can do about it now. If only our stupid ancestors had thought well enough to actually win the rebellion when it happened. If only the kids of the stupid Games would've stopped them from happening with peace. But, no. Now we're here, and I'm gonna die because of all them. Thanks a lot.
Then I watch my last seconds tick away, drowning in self-pity for the 12-year-old who is going to die when that gong rings.
I might be stronger than they all think. Underestimation is key.
TIERRA'S POV
Tierra Morrison.
Best friend. Loving daughter of a single father. Instructor. Harvester.
District 11 female tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.
Quiet. Polite. Obedient. Strong but shy.
Dark skin. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Tall. Slender.
There was always a lingering fear that I would be reaped into the Games, but it is considered normal back home at District 11. Nobody wants to be here, and yet here we are. And, in an almost completely artificial Arena, it appears that any skills with nature are going to be rendered completely useless. Which means that I'm out of skills already. It's hard to not know about nature when you live in 11.
You're surrounded by nature every day back home. If you want to have fun, you go outside and explore. It's where we work, it's where any social gatherings or District meetings are held, and it's where everything is. Inside has nothing compared to outside. Sometimes, someone gets lucky enough to be able to smuggle a couple seeds and "accidentally" plant a berry bush in their yard. The only concern is whether or not it's safe to eat. This knowledge is passed from generation to generation, often serving as important life lessons.
Edible plants is usually something that comes naturally. Often, District 11 tributes like me know even more secrets about plants than they teach at Training. It's probably our only advantage in the Arena, unless you're one of the heavy-workers that's had time to build strength. I was never allowed to do any of that work: I'm much too thin and "fragile."
What nobody knows is that I might be stronger than they all think. Underestimation is key for those tributes from the outer Districts. If I can just get them to overlook me enough, I can hopefully fly by unscathed and return just in time for the final battle. As for who it's against, I'm not sure who I think it'll be. Hopefully it's someone I can defeat without the help of the Capitol.
Then again, from exploring in 11, I've also gotten good at running from mutts.
I may look cute, have a cute name, and embroider the most beautiful pillows for you, but it doesn't mean I'm squeaky clean.
LIANA'S POV
Liana Finley.
Sister. Daughter. Friend. Seamstress.
District 8 female in the 41st Hunger Games.
Deceiving. Quiet. Refined. Petite. Sell alcohol at the black market, but never been drunk in my life.
Fair skin. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Tall. Normal-weight.
I'm probably the last person in District 8 you would expect to run a booth at the black market. But in reality, well, looks can be deceiving. I may look cute, have a cute name, and embroider the most beautiful pillows for you, but it doesn't mean I'm squeaky clean. If anything, it should probably make you more suspicious.
By day, I'm just a lowly seamstress with a pretty smile that makes the most beautiful creations with lace. By night, I can hook you up with whatever drugs you could possibly need, but not without selling you a bottle of booze first. It may be gross, especially the people that I have to deal with, but I'm well-off. I've never been starving, even if I have spent a night or two in my day hungry, and I only got caught once and whipped. The experience was awful, but I think it's worth the extra money I make.
I certainly make more selling alcohol that I'll ever make working as a seamstress. The conditions are god-awful and we're extremely underpaid. Even when I finish a creation, it gets sent off to the Capitol to be bought and somehow I only get one coin for it, with our boss keeping for himself and the Capitol keeping their share.
My creations are so carefully done that it tricks people into thinking that's how I get all the money I have, with expensive creations. And that's what they'll always believe, especially the Capitol.
When I'm a Victor, well, I guess my regulars'll have to find some other place to get drunk at, because as soon as I come out of the Arena, I'm giving up my business forever.
My Victor's talent will be sewing, and that's all anyone will ever know of the person I was before the Games.
That means that now, I have nothing to lose.
LINCOLN'S POV
Lincoln Frazier.
Son. Friend. Cousin. "Freak."
District 6 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.
Small. Skinny. Starving. Short. Teased. Dysgraphic. Dyslexic. "Stupid."
Tan skin. Curly brown hair. Sweet brown eyes.
Yes, I'm from the District of transportation: 6. But I hated it there. I dunno what it is; if it's something about my dysgraphia and dyslexia, or something about how I suck at sports, something about the people I call my friends, or something about my interest in animals, but whatever it is gets me bullied by almost everyone.
Their favorite word to use is stupid. I think it's because I have the reading level of a fourth grader and I'm 13. It's because District 6 is probably the trashiest place to live in when you can't learn and nobody has as much as a remote program for kids that have trouble learning. It's because kids around here either get reaped into the Hunger Games or leave school to go work in a factory. Factory work is dangerous, with long hours from dawn to past sunset, and not to mention it doesn't pay much at all!
I was almost doomed to that fate; I was going to have to go to work as soon as I turned 14, which is actually much younger than the other kids that go to work as teens, but I can't do any good in school, and we need food. We're starving.
But now I guess I'll either die in the Arena and I'll be gone forever before I can think about it, or I'll come home victorious and be the among the only people in the whole District that lives in luxury. I'd never have to work. Maybe I could actually get a pretty good education. Not to mention that not a soul would dare to call me names ever again. I could help who I wanted, too. I could help my cousin Calix. Or my best friend Roth. They could come live with me in the Victor's Village. Roth could get away from those parents he hates. Cal could get out of that orphanage.
That means that now, I have nothing to lose. I have to win the Hunger Games.
I already know that I'm doomed. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't make an impact.
NOLAN'S POV
Nolan Rinehart.
Enemy. Bully. Slugger. Drunk. Smoker. Addict.
District 8 male in the 41st Hunger Games.
Tall. Strong but weak at once. Rude. Violent. Addicted to so much shit it's not funny.
Blonde hair that sticks up. Bloodshot gray eyes. Just a huge mess.
I'm 18 and live on my own. As soon as I was able I moved away from my parents. They hated me and I hated them. I'm a lone wolf, on my own. And I plan to be the same way in the Games. When things at home started to get rocky I started spending more and more time in the bad places at 8. I know Liana, she was always the one to talk to if you wanted some addicting substance to get your mind off of things. She's been playing the innocent card, and I can't say I blame her. The Capitol probably loves her.
My money would personally be on her to win. I think she's able to, I think she can do it. Bring District 8 another Victor. Me? I won't last three days. I'm addicted to too many drugs to survive a week without them. Especially in an Arena like this. I already know that I'm doomed. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't make an impact. Back home, everyone's afraid of me. It's only because I give them a reason to be, though. I pick on them, most of the time when I'm drunk (which is a lot), and I seem to have a talent of hurting people, both emotionally and physically. And that's only going to become worse when I have to deal with withdrawal.
But, hey, at least they're skills I can use in the Arena.
I am the alpha male. I am the strongest, fastest, and smartest, and nothing will ever stop me.
PRIDE'S POV
Pride Davison.
Loyal boyfriend. Spectacular friend. Loving brother. Wonderful son. District 1's hero.
District 1 male (and future Victor) of the 41st Hunger Games.
Tall. Ripped. Handsome. Popular. Brilliant. Perfectly cocky.
Soft blonde hair. Winning, beautiful blue eyes. Did I mention ripped?
The Hunger Games is in my blood. Sure, nobody from my family has won exactly, but I'm about to change that: for good. I don't care about any of these tributes back home! I have a sexy girlfriend back home and I'm going to win the Games for her, and for my parents, who are oh-so-proud of me, and for all my friends from the Academy.
What puts me above the others is that I don't care about any of them! I would kill the losers who are my "alliance" day one, except for the fact that then I would have no puppets to manipulate and play with. The point is that I don't have a problem with killing. It's what I've been taught to do from the time I was just two years old to now. I've watched replays of every single Hunger Games, taking tactics into view, and fighting skills. I've spent many long nights at the Academy, being by myself until three in the morning training.
I am ready for these Games. I've put in the work, and I'm already so awesome that I am going to win. Even in our alliance, I am the alpha male. The leader. Because I am the strongest, fastest, and the smartest, and nothing will ever stop me!
They all think they're so good, but none of them are anything compared to me. My whole alliance: along with all the other shitty tributes here in this Arena with us: can just cower in my enormous shadow and hope that I choose to kill them all quickly.
But all they can do is hope.
This is a fight to the death, and in fights to the death, there is no room for mercy.
JOSIE'S POV
Josie Tarver.
Friend. Daughter. Prostitute.
District 9 female tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.
Short. Skinny. Busty. Manipulative. Clever to get what I want.
Wavy, light brown hair. Light brown eyes.
District 9 sucks. The days are long and hot, the work hours literally take forever. And I don't get to stop working in the day. I have to spend my nights in some random house of someone I've never met before, exposing my body. That's where I'll wake up. That's where I'll have to try to find the money. That's where I'll have to flee from without waking anyone up. It's a tricky task, and never a fun one. But it's something I've always had to do.
Being a Victor has to be better than the life I've been living now. There are rumors going around the District that Victors are sold into prostitution, but at least, even if that was the case, I wouldn't have to work the next morning. I could just sleep in the days, have sex in the nights. Yeah, it'll suck, but I'd do anything to get out of the life I lived before I got reaped.
TO win the Hunger Games, you have to kill, which I'm actually Ok with. Let's get blood on our hands, why don't we!? Let's manipulate some guys with seduction to get what we want, why don't we!? Just because my life sucks doesn't mean I'm nice. In fact, I'm going to be a total bitch in the Arena, just like I am back home, because this is a fight to the death, and in fights to the death, there is no room for mercy. All of these guys are going to die, and I don't give a damn who kills them, though it might be good if it was by my hand.
Happy Hunger Games.
A/N: Yay! Alright, so for those of you interested in sponsoring tributes (when the time is right, I suppose), I have the list of what you can do and how many points it will get you! Also, I'll carry over the scores from before.
Any review you leave on this story will get you 5 points immediately.
Long reviews with advice and opinions get an additional 5 points.
A favorite for the story will be 4 points.
A follow will get you 2 points.
Leaving a review on another one of my stories will get you 10 points per story.
Ooo! I also might post concept art for the Arena/characters to Tumblr. A like will be worth 3 points and a reblog will be worth 5. Add a comment and I might give you extra because I really like that stuff… :X
Also, every chapter, I'm going to ask a question. There are no right/wrong answers, I just really want to know what you think. Answer the question and I'll give you 7 points.
Speaking of, before scores, HERE is the chapter question: Which two of the POV's above stood out to you the MOST?
Here are the scores from Voices. BUT IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO GET POINTS! GUESTS ARE WELCOME AS WELL!
Kate: 121
Lgkavanagh22: 19
Dreamer: 132
Jess: 219
maxlvr101: 7
falyn. oliver: 43
seaotter99: 22
Turtlewithwings: 62
Blonde4ever: 62
TheInkBender: 2
swimmyfinnick1: 4
.Strange: 17
Wow, that's a lot of words. Thanks if you read them all. Hopefully I'll put Part 2 up soon !
~Ciao!
