Chapter 1

The anthem blares across the Districts of Panem in unison. Twelve, eleven, ten... it's a countdown and one too loud at that; the sound blasting through every District's Justice Plaza is entirely too acute and practically an eardrum destroyer at that.

Each of the Twelve Districts differ on the exact procedures. Some of the crowds react differently to the heat, though what goes down ends up being the same every single year.

Although there are several members of the crowd which have already fainted, some whose bodies have been trampled to death, and many others sporting intense ear bleeding, neither these many factors seem to upset the hundreds, if not thousands of citizens who have gathered to bear witness to yet another year of the Pleasure Games. Even if they hadn't been forced to converge there at the crack of dawn, several hours before the ceremonies' start, no one would have wanted to miss it. After all, the winners are coveted for their sexual experience and the losers, well, they tend to make the perfect slaves, beat down and shamed in no excess.

The counting reaches zero with a shrill, and silence falls amongst the masses. As last year, and the year before, it happens just in time for the official event to start. The morning coolness has long since gone by and it's now extremely warm outside, with the sun glistening sickly atop the cloudless sky. The star is nothing more than white dot in the vast blue but an oppressively sweltering hot one at that. It spreads its tendrils everywhere, heating the world up to a boil. Both the heat and the concentration of people intensify the stench: of blood and sweat and tears. It's too strong, worsened by the perfect weather, and overpowers each and every nose within a large radius.

Perhaps that is the reason for no Capitol officials to be found anywhere nearby the Districts during this fateful day. After all, in spite of the many peacekeepers swarming through the premises like a cluster of locusts, confusion reigns, and perhaps it's due to the tang of blood and death wafting through the air, because many of the District's crowds start to grow uneasy, irritable.

Somewhere in District three, one of the primly dressed peacekeepers has a hole practically punched through his jaw by a large man, whose fist is impatient for the games. A fight breaks out and instantly, the whole of three seems to have erupted in uproar. Screams can be heard from every direction and the scent of smoke weighs down on its citizens. However, all of that is forgotten as, after couple seconds of intense white noise, a voice blasts through the muggy heat, carried by the sluggish breeze which rolls back and forth across the country.

"And on the very first day of Spring, to make up for the sins, the carnal viciousness of our ancestors, the Capitol has established the Pleasure Games. In them a randomly drawn group of 24 players - two from each of the 12 Districts - shall be given the chance to shine in their quest to reach the highest peak of pleasure, or to fail and lose its privilege. For the winner will be granted the right to mate with his or hers chosen and the losers shall be cut aside to never experience anything remotely sexual again."

Someone, a large boned woman screams an obscene string of expletives from among the crowd from District Eight. She steps forward and the people part for her, like a sea.

"Yes..." The voice clicks, androgynous and metallic. It sounds almost bored now, very un-anthem-like and there's emotion hidden somewhere in it, maybe annoyance at this minor setback. "Despite last year's complaints, castration is still in place as standard punishment method for the losers. Deal with it, it's not likely to change."

The woman screeches something which sounds close to "You bastards, my son! What have you done to him is not natural!" And continues on shouting mindless drivel even as she is dragged aside by a pair of peacekeepers, twitching and convulsing in the men's arms.

"Anyway," It continues, very nonchalant. After a moment the citizens shrink back from the blaring loud boomboxes which carry the voice onward. A few more fall flat on their asses from the sound-induced headache and the blistering heat. "As usual, killing, wounding or otherwise threatening another Tribute before or during the games is strictly forbidden. The weapons you choose shall not be ones of torture but bliss. And that's all there is to say. So let the 74th Pleasure Games take start! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The crowd explodes.

Sent from my iPad