DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games, nor the concept of it.

I would like to point out that I am writing this for the fun of it, but if there are some errors that cannot be ignored then please let me know and I will fix them when possible. It bothers me how I can read over and still miss things so I'm hoping you will be able to help me through this. That does not mean be rude, though. Writing fanfiction is truly just a hobby for me, so please be nice?

CHAPTER ONE
Lyra

I tried to act natural. To stay as calm as I could possible. It was a difficult task, though. My hands refused to obey my mind, only increasing their quivering and sweating when I forced my fingers into a fist. Even before I made my way up to the blood sample's desk, I found myself feeling a little light-headed. There was an extremely large chance that by the end of the Reaping, all of Panem would think of me as The-Tribute-Who-Had-A-Panic-Attack-In-The-Middle-Of-Her-Reaping and I knew what that would bring. If the reaction to Annie Cresta's winning of her Games was any indication to how they'd react to me fainting, District 4 would offer me to the Capitol as sea food quicker than let my stay. Pride was everything, especially when it came to the Hunger Games.

And so my hands kept shaking.

My eyes scanned the many rows that surrounded me then moved up towards the Justice Building, and I almost felt my stomach plunge into my toes. Jett Orion, with her corkscrew blue curls and seafoam green skin that nearly shimmered in the sunlight, practically danced her way on to the stage with a beaming grin that shows off her perfectly white teeth. It was obvious that, over her four years at District 4's escort, she had learnt to try to show us some support. Her first year had been a disaster, if I remember right. We, as an entire District, had disapproved of her coal-black clothes. District Twelve would have liked it a lot more...

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 4," she sang out, "I welcome you to the Reaping of the 74th Hunger Games. It is a pleasure to see the newest faces of our growing country. I just love their innocence!"

In other words, she, like everyone else in the Capitol, loved fresh meat.

"We have a special treat for you all. Sent all the way from the Capitol, by President Snow himself, we have a short clip to remind us of our history," Jett clapped twice before going silent.

So, again, we waited until the screen in front of us flickered to life. It flashed on and off a few times before it showed us an image on the ruins of District 13. The rebellion had changed everything for us, creating a world of death and destruction like nothing before. Then, as the music started, the screen changed to show us clips of the past Games and the tributes that took either survived or died. Faces flashed up before fading into someone else, and it kept going on like that for a short while. There was a longer pause on each District 4 tribute, like we needed a reminder of who was lost to us now.

But it was the differences that shocked me the most in the faces of each victor. How only a small percentage were smiling while all the rest looked ready for death, or worse. Most stood emotionless; eyes empty yet still full of horror. Their faces were the aftermath of the Hunger Games.

"Oh, isn't it just wonderful?" Jett squealed happily. "A message straight from the Capitol is always so exciting. Always makes me so cheery because it's just the beginning!"

No one else shared her joy-filled shrieks. Nobody was even smiling along with the woman.

"Anyway, we've got to be moving on now as the time has come to choose a young man and a young woman to represent District 4. I can just sense the tension," and I wondered if that was sarcasm. "As always, ladies first."

Moments later, when her hand hovered over the giant bowl that hid my name twenty-three times, I felt my heart shudder. Twenty-three little life lines were floating about in that sea of paper, hooked to me like my papa's fishing hooks. If one of them was yanked out, then I was going to be taken with it.

That's when I heard it. The silence being destroyed by the rustling of papers that almost reminded me of the sea being split in two by a ship.

"Lyra Colt!"

I froze completely, then. Lyra Colt... was me. That was my name. No longer shuddering, my heart literally stopped for a full second. A second of silence before it raced on, ramming against my ribs like a prisoner wanting out of a jail cell. Rambling voices erupted in my head as I stared at the girls edging away from me, as if in the last moment I had caught a lethal illness that was contagious. They were no longer classmates or friends. From then on, they would be part of my audience.

Sobbing sounded from somewhere behind me. Head snapping backwards, I felt my throat clogging up when the sight of my grandma wrapped up in my papa's arms came into view. Her frail hands were gripping at his coat and I could see his lips moving rapidly, muttering words of comfort to his wife. Always such a nice man, my papa. Only sixteen years ago, when I had been born, they were forced to take me in or I would be used in the Capitol as an Avox. Being the parents of my deceased mother, they welcomed me with open arms.

My ears picked up the murmuring of the crowds before the shouting started around me.

"You can't choose her!"

"She's been in once before, and shall not be forced again."

"The Descendant, you all call her? She has done enough for you!"

"The Capitol should treasure this girl, yet you're leading her to death!"

Never before had my District reacted in such a way. We were a favourable part of Panem. One of the richest, as the Capitol had announced a few years back. To show disrespect to a Reaping was like spitting in President Snow's face before sitting on his throne-like chair at the Tribute Parade. It was almost unheard of throughout the Districts, and District 13 was proof of what the consequences were. Of course, nobody liked to view the Capitol for what they truly were but sometimes it was the only choice. Kind of like in the actual Games. You were forced to choose between life or death, and that decision had to be made as quickly as possible.

While the shouting continued, and I quivered in my shocked posture, Peacekeepers appeared through the crowd. Their gloved hands gripped my biceps before beginning to tug me along, until I reached the end of my section and hit the pathway that led to the stage. The surprised faces of the younger children didn't frighten me like they should have but I couldn't help the feeling of contentment pinching at my insides. At least, for another year, the girls were safe.

"Quickly, dear," Jett's voice was a little frantic as she called out for me. "Hurry along now."

The yelling had not stopped. Some people had gone quiet when a dozen more Peacekeepers made their appearances but the braver, or more stupid, ones had continued their disagreements. This was the thing with District 4. Being proud of yourself, and of the others around you, was a trait that needed to be fed into a person if they didn't already have it. As I had said before, pride was everything.

My legs quaked slightly when the stairs were in front of me. Nothing had ever put so much fear into me. Not my first day at school. Not when the nightmares started up, again. Not even when Papa was lost at sea for over a week. The sweat was dripping off of my finger tips as I took the first step, then another and the next. Each time my foot came down on the polished wood, I could hear the thud echoing over the arguments that had broken out. It was the adults that wouldn't stop, too, but that wasn't shocking at all. Many of the children didn't completely understand who I was.

Yet, when I made it to the top of the stage and Jett took my hand, nothing had ever felt like that.

Being protected and cared for by the people you thought hated you for what you were.

"And now, if everyone would calm down, we will continue with finding our male tribute for this year," the young escort managed to sound almost threatening, "so please do be quiet."

That very feminine threat was backed up by the Peacekeepers, who were marching their way towards the adults. With every little stomp they made, another voice went quiet. It worked quite well, the Peacekeepers' intimidation. People often were too scared to go against them, so when their was a rebellion-

"Our male tribute is-"

Someone, with a voice so familiar, spoke out, "I volunteer!"

Hair as black as night was making its way through the sections. The figure didn't even bother coming to the pathway as he leapt over each rope and shoved through the other boys, who didn't take too nicely to the treatment they were receiving as they only started shoving back. Fortunately, it seemed that our volunteer had become career material and refused to put up with the lack of respect he was receiving. Punches were thrown in a blink and then he was jumping over the last rope. His lanky build gave me reason to sigh so I did.

Over and over, the same thought was repeated in my mind. Hoping continously that this was not the boy who had grown up in the same house as I had. That this was not the boy whose blood ran through my veins, and mine ran through his. This boy was not related to me, in anyway or form. But those thoughts weren't right at all.

Jett was in his face as soon as he made it on to the stage, "And what is your name, sir?"

Green eyes never leaving mine, he answered in a strong voice, "Ace Colt. Cousin of Lyra Colt."

There was no hope, after all.

My fingers were still quivering as I sat in a secluded room in the Justice Building. I kept my knee hopping a little as I stared straight ahead at the entrance to the room. Around me were some of the fanciest objects that I had ever seen, but there was no way that I could keep my eyes on them without tearing up. It was insulting, really. How they thought that they could give us the finest things before sending us to our deaths. Almost like fattening a pig before slaughtering it for New Year.

"Kid..." Papa whispered when he entered, walking to my side immediately. "You're doing so well, so far."

His soft gaze made me feel like a toddler again, stumbling and falling like the day I had taken my first steps. Nobody could make me cry with one look; no one but my papa. So when his eyes found mind, and the rivers streamed down my cheeks, it was no surprise to either of us. Launching myself into his open arms, I let the cries escape me like a storm. It sounded like one and with the amount of water coming from my eyes, it truly was like a heavy rainfall.

"I-I'm not g-going to be able to... do it," I said through the sobs. "With Ace..."

"Ace is going in to protect you, kid. He's going to bring you home," Papa promised, lacing his rough fingers through mine. "It's already been dealt with, and he's sworn his life off to you."

Hopelessness. That's what filled me. If I were to come home, Ace would be the one to die. If Ace were to come home, I would be gone but he would be with his family once more. Luck had run out so now, things were going to be run through the power of destiny. You could be trained to kill, or somehow kill the trained.

"You are going to do this, kid," my papa nodded seriously. "You've came out of it before, and you will do again."

Feeling like everything would go smoother if I just agreed, I found myself nodding once again.

Of course, the only choice was quite simple.

Life or death...

Hello, folks!

This is a Cato/OC, Hunger Games FanFiction that has been playing on my mind for a very long time. It's annoying how Cato died, and I cried at that in the film, so this is the way that I would like for the 74th Hunger Games to go.

I'm open to suggestions in situations and pairings that will happen between some of the tributes. Also, I would love suggestions on death scenes as well as my mind cannot exactly come up with that kind of stuff without giving me nightmares on a nightly basis. (That's why I have dream catchers...)

You can also ask my questions and my plans through reviews and/or PM-ing me! It works both ways and I'll try to respond as quickly as I can.