Okay, this is basically all the HG characters in the Olympic Games. Requests for who should do what in the events? AU.

I thought of this because of the Olympics that have just been, and it inspired me to do this story. I mean, it's kind of like the Hunger Games. There's an arena. You have to fight to win (Not physically fight the other person, well, except judo and stuff :P) You have to parade around the arena. And it's aired on TV, not that that's a big difference, lol.

Okay, please review and I'll update more. The first bit has no events in it, it's the Opening Ceremony. Based in the lovely city of London. Basically the London 2012 games, Katniss' POV at first, changes regularly. Oh and I'm really sporty, so I was also inspired to do this story, because I do more then half of the events. And I would love to do heptathlon in 2020, because I am only twelve now. Thanks!

I stood at the entrance of the arena, holding the flame which was flickering red and orange in the dark. It was almost my turn. I was chosen for the torch bearer. Why? Why on earth would they choose me? Okay, sure, I had three world records to my name. So? It's not that special. I've heard that the Careers (there nickname, seeing as they dedicate there life to sports, and are so much more competitive then us at the events) are going for the most medals won ever in the Olympics.

I watch in awe, as it began.

It didn't really make much sense to me, seeing as I'm from Appalachia in America. They seemed to be repeating the history of Britain. . .

And then, it all changed. I jumped out of my very skin when the hard drum pounded. I looked up at the big screen. The amazing woman, who was playing, seemed to be blind.

I was dumfounded. I could never do what she did in a million years. Sure, I could run, throw a javelin, jump high and long, jump hurdles with ease, but blind. . . I couldn't. I feel a lot of respect for the women, on the drums.

Behind her, were hundreds of men who were playing also.

It sent chills down my spine as I stared open-mouthed at the hundreds of men with hard faces come out of the green hill that reminded me of the meadow back home.

Everything started to change again. From being all peaceful and lovely, and choir singing, it had turned into a sort of big factory. I knew they were all highly-trained actors, but the hardship that they showed on there faces were so . . . real.

Then a glowing kind of liquid or light came from what they were making. It was lifted in the air, all five of the circles.

Once it was in the air, and we were all gawping up at it, then did it make any sense.

It was the Olympic Rings.

I took a deep breath, and sat down. I can't watch anymore, it feels all too real, and I hate reality. Oh why did they not just choose Enobaria or Glimmer to carry the stupid torch?

For a good half an hour, I sat on the wooden bench, trying to drown out the music and shouts of the crowd, and focused on the flickering flames of the torch.

Suddenly, I heard somebody enter the room. Ugh. Probably Peeta, my boyfriend, who had came to say something encouraging. I loved him and all, but I can't stand it when I'm under pressure and somebody will come and make it worse.

I turn to see that it is not Peeta.

It's Coach Finnick.

I breathe in relief. Finnick always knows what's best for me. And hopefully, he won't come out with any speech of what an honour to carry it will be, and what I must do and that I'll do just fine.

Thankfully, he comes out with none of those comments that Peeta would sure have said to me.

"Fancy a sugar cube?" He grins.

I give out a sort of mix between a laugh and a snort, and end up sounding like my sister's old cat, Buttercup, when he had to have a wash.

Wow. I was really nervous. But if I'm nervous, I'm weak. And if I'm weak, I will never win against the Careers in my event, the Heptathlon. I cannot be weak.

So I try to act normal.

"So, Finnick, how are you enjoying London?" I ask, with a big fake smile of enthusiasm.

"Stop." He said.

"Stop what?" I say, puzzled.

"Acting like you aren't nervous! Katniss, I know you." He said seriously.

"I'm not." I mutter back, and look back into the everlasting flames of the torch.

"Oh yeah? I bet you can't even stand without shaking!" Challenges Finnick.

See, that's exactly how Finnick knows me. I can't ever resist a bet or a challenge. . .

Also, he's implying that I am weak. That, I am not.

I stand tall, and stare at his sea green eyes, that glisten in the faint light of the torch.

"Good. Now get out there and show them you're strong." He hugs me once, and then he is gone and I'm being ushered out of the dark room, into the side of the arena.

I swallow hard. This is it.

"Okay, ready? In three. . . two. . . one. . ." Says the man with a clipboard net to me, and he gives me a gentle push towards the thousands of people, who will be looking down at me, and if I make a mistake, everyone will be sure to see it.

But I will give nobody that satisfaction.

I jog towards the cauldron, my head held high, with a grin on my face. I keep the flame held high, like if the flame is high enough, my spirits will also be high.

And I think, it works.

Because by the time I've reached the cauldron, I'm waving and genuinely smiling, not faking.

I come to slow stop, and hold up the torch to the screaming crowd, and slowly but surely, I lift the Olympic flame towards the cauldron.

And it lights up.

I am amazed by it's beauty . . . it's power . . .

I take a small step back to admire it more, and then I finally remember the crowd. I look up, wave, blow a few kisses, and begin to walk off the stage. Well, the grassy hill thing anyway.

I am about to walk out of the arena completely, but not before something hits me faintly on the head.

I look down, confused, but to see a rose, which somebody from the audience must have thrown.

I hold it up, sniff it faintly, and hold it up to the crowd.

The rose gave me hope. Hope of winning, hope of victory.

Watch out, Careers. I wouldn't be so sure of you winning this time. . .