Hi! So, it's been a year since I've updated this fic. I've decided that it's time to rip it to shreds and finally do the story justice. Don't expect me to update often, but do expect less crack. I've deleted all the chapters from because, really? They're awful. *hangs head in shame*

Really. I can write comprehensively, I promise.

I'm hoping to be done with this before the new year, so that you sort of have a timeline.

Also, if you remember anything from the old ANCG?

Throw it out the window.

Reading of the card for the 100th Games:

Slowly, televisions all over Panem flicked on, to watch the required programming. Today, it was the reading of the reading of the card. Throughout the districts, people watched with despair, and the ones eligible for the Games cringed at the thought of being there, in the Capitol. Especially with this year's just-announced twist - how much more horror could the Capitol expect them to survive?

Quell theme announced, a bearded man took over the broadcast. He wasn't the one who'd read the card, but rather, the man in charge. A rose sprouted from his lapel, and with the miraculous technology saved for the Capitolians, he still appeared young despite his snow white hair. He cleared his throat and said honestly to his nation, "Thank you."

The mandatory program ended with the haunting image of his smile.

Last day: 100th Games

I bet even the people who enjoyed the Games shuddered when the district two boy secured second place. He was stretching his neck - or rather, having his neck stretched. It only took a minute or two for the eyes to bulge, the skin to show holes... Then the head came loose, the translucent mutt responsible swallowing it whole. The red streak inside the monster bubbled as is was quickly digested within the supernatural creature. There was, of course, intense music to accompany the graphics.

At least they had a victor now, one who actually hadn't had to do much. One that wouldn't be too messed up. They'd hardly played with this one, focusing on other's gruesome deaths. Most couldn't believe they'd passed up the chance.

The kid vomited into a nearby bush. He still swayed, but it wasn't like he'd been decapitated. He let out a loud screech. "Take that, man!" he shouted, pointing at what was left of his former ally. "I told you you were no match for me!" He swayed and collapsed.

The mutt didn't move, but the kid ignored it, staring into the sky.

The mutt watched him, and it didn't sink into the ground then, no, and nor did it turn to go and leave a slimy trail. It started slugging towards the winner.

The tribute stared up at the mutt from his place on the ground. "Okay, this is funny, guys, but I'm the last tribute here... Announcement, please? Call off the guckball? Hi, I won. HELLO?"

Oh, they weren't going to do that to their victor, they'd already won!

I groaned aloud.

Call the mutt off already! Oh, oh...

Sure, I'd been totally desensitized by close to twenty years of watching the Games. You know, gushing wounds, close-ups of organs lying in the dirt... But this. Even this was going to discourage the suicide volunteers that cropped up occasionally. A squishy ripping sound came from the TV set - oh, there went the leg, twitching... Surely the mutt wouldn't-

I looked away. I knew it wouldn't do any good to watch.

A scream came, and I knew it wasn't real. The tribute didn't even have a face anymore; they were just pretending the pre-recorded voice was his.

How the hell were they going to pretty-fy this body for it's interview? Victory tour? Because I was pretty sure if there used to be a person inside that thing, that there wasn't anymore.

Eventually, they cropped the mutt out of the picture. One minute it was lounging, digesting small bits of the winner, but when they cut back after showing peaceful shots of the arena's horizon, it was gone.

And a mere child stepped out from behind the trees.

Oh.

Required viewing: Post 100th Games: The Centennial Games' Victor Interview!

When I watched her post-Games interview I was surprised to see her perfectly composed. She talked more than the Capitol lady in her flashy suit, chatting independently about computers and how she managed to take apart enough of the arena tech to convince the Gamemakers she was dead.

"I just survived... differently," is how she worded her misuse of the Gamemaker's property. While it was wonderful she hadn't died, her method of survival would not ensure an exactly happy ending. When, in the recaps, the room re-watched her own faked death - a stabbing - and the inquisitor asked how she faked that, exactly? She tried to explain about the focal points of lenses and what pixels are and how a green-screen works-

She stopped at the same time I would have: when so many blank, confused, idiotic faces made me want to cry.

100th Games: Victor Homecoming

When her train pulled into the station, I pushed my way to the front of the crowd. Everyone knew we were brother and sister, so they don't bother me when my elbows got feisty.

Being the victor, she was the first one down from the train. She looked different. But that was to be expected; she has been through countless Capitol makeovers, after all. Of course they'd have changed her body to their liking.

But when we embrace, after I shout her name, call her to me, she whispered,

"Don't waver with your smile," she hissed into my ear. "But you should know that I'm not you're sister. She's dead; you'll get the ashes the day after the press leaves. Once they do, I don't want to see your face until the victory tour. Now let go of me, bastard. You're embarrassing the new me."

I put her down, shocked. Somehow, this was worse that if she'd just died like the rest of the tributes.

Happy, happy, happy Hunger Games! :)