Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: Just a couple of "housekeeping" notes.

Firstly, since several people have asked, yes, there is a blog. The link to it is on my profile. Tributes will be posted on the blog as they're introduced in-story. (I do this to avoid split-second judgments of the tributes based on a picture and a few words on a blog, something I'm more than guilty of myself.)

Second, make sure to keep an eye out for allies as we go through the reapings. Twelve extra tributes means more potential allies, so let me know if you see a good match. Submitters of Careers, this applies to you, as well. We've got only one or two who could remotely be considered proper Careers, so there's no rule that says tributes from 1, 2, and 4 must end up in an alliance together.

Lastly, thank you to torystory93, Rosemarie Benson, and Frank.2.0 for Elaine, Henri, and Daedem, respectively.


District One Reaping
Unfair


Scarlet LaFleur, 18
Victor of the 23rd Hunger Games

Now she was glad she hadn't waited.

Scarlet glanced over at Jade and Stellar, smirking knowingly. Wait a few years, they'd said. You're young and impatient, they'd said. Wouldn't winning a Quarter Quell be better? And, once or twice, she'd wondered if maybe they had been right. Maybe a Quarter Quell would have been more exciting. But now she was glad she hadn't listened.

Because then she may have lost her chance entirely.

It was all up to chance this year. No volunteers. Jade and Stellar were seated next to each other, holding hands, trying to make the best of it. But Scarlet knew they were disappointed. And the students they had selected this year – Autumn and Kane – would be even more upset in the likely event that they weren't chosen. They were both eighteen. Both had trained most of their lives for this. In a matter of moments, their chance could be gone. And they had no say in the matter.

Scarlet drummed her fingers impatiently. She didn't like looking at the nervous faces in the crowd – nervous for the first time in years. The reaping in District One was usually just a formality. The tributes were selected by Jade and Stellar weeks before the reaping. Everyone already knew who would volunteer.

But not this year. This year, the decision rested with Aurora DeLaine, their escort, who had an odd smile on her face as she approached the single reaping bowl. Maybe she was excited, knowing that, this year, it finally mattered which name she drew out of the bowl. And, Scarlet had to admit, there was something exciting, something tantalizing, about the uncertainty of it all, especially since it wasn't her chance that was at stake.

Aurora reached into the bowl and drew a name. "Molly Saunders!"

Immediately, the sound of sobbing filled the square, draining the excitement Scarlet had felt only a moment before. The sobbing was coming from the eighteen-year-old section, where the crowd had parted around a girl in a green tunic, dark purple skirt, and a green head scarf. Scarlet watched in disbelief as the girl – no younger than her – collapsed on the ground, weeping like a child as the Peacekeepers hauled her to her feet and dragged her to the stage.

Scarlet glanced over at her fellow mentors. Jade and Stellar watched, blank-faced, trying to appear unmoved by the display. Felix glanced away, uncomfortable, as the girl continued to weep, falling to her knees as soon as the Peacekeepers released her. Her long black hair was now a mess, her dark brown eyes red with tears by the time she dared to look up, pleading, begging for someone to take her place.

If only they could.

Somewhere in the crowd, Scarlet knew, were the two students Jade and Stellar had chosen. Two teenagers who would have given anything to be in this girl's place. But there were only two chances left…

"Daedem Luthra!"

The eighteen-year-old section parted again, this time for a tall, sturdy boy in a dark red suit. He was dark-skinned and dark-haired, his crooked nose and square jawline giving him a much more serious look than his district partner. But just as Scarlet had decided that he was a much better contender, the boy began shouting. Screaming that it wasn't fair, that he hadn't done anything. The Peacekeepers grabbed him, dragging him to the stage, but he was still protesting – his deep brown eyes wide with alarm – demanding to know what he had done to deserve this. "What did I do?" he yelled as the Peacekeepers deposited him onstage next to the girl.

The boy scrambled to his feet immediately, but had more sense than to fight back. So he simply stood there, arms crossed, glaring at each of the victors in turn before turning back to face the crowd as Aurora drew one more name. "Elaine Willis!"

The fourteen-year-old section parted around a small girl in a white lace dress. But no sooner had they cleared a path to the stage than the girl sprinted in the opposite direction, through the crowd, past the rest of her age group. She had almost made it through the twelve-year-old section before a younger Peacekeeper caught her in his arms, carrying her to the stage. Scarlet thought for a moment that he whispered something in her ear before setting her next to the two older teenagers. The girl nodded a little, tears in her dark blue eyes, her wavy brown hair mussed from the struggle.

No one seemed to know what to do next. Usually there were handshakes. Cheering. Shouts of victory uttered before the tributes had even entered the arena, bets taken on which of them would come home with the victor's crown.

But not this year. This year, the Peacekeepers led the tributes away without another word, leaving the crowd to disperse quietly. Once offstage, the four victors gathered together in a circle.

Jade spoke first, shaking his head. "We've spoiled them. They've forgotten how to handle a real reaping."

Scarlet nodded. Since Jade's victory, nearly all of District One's tributes had been volunteers. And since the founding of Jade and Stellar's Career academy, they had been better trained, well-prepared, and, in recent years, hand-picked by the Florens to volunteer for the Games. Before today, these three had probably never even considered the possibility that they might end up in the Games. They had been safe.

Until now.

"Not too late to change your mind, Felix," Stellar teased.

Felix shook his head. "Oh, no. You three go ahead. I've had my fill."

Jade clapped him on the back. "Fair enough. Take good care of Jasper and Thea."

Felix nodded and made his way through the crowd to Jade and Stellar's children, who greeted him with warm cries of "Uncle Felix!" Scarlet smiled a little. In an odd way, they were all family – Jade and Stellar, little Jasper and Thea, "Uncle" Felix … and her. The wayward daughter? The crazy cousin?

"So, Scarlet, you get first pick – any preference?"

Jade's question yanked her back to the moment. Down to business. That was the unofficial family rule: newer mentors got to pick their tributes first. It was supposed to make it easier, but, last year, she had ended up working closely with Jade, anyway. "I'll take the boy."

Jade nodded. "I thought you might. He's got a temper."

Scarlet smirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not if you can control it. You did a fair job of controlling your own, or else you wouldn't be here; you'll do fine. Stellar?"

"I'll take the younger girl."

Jade nodded. "Which leaves me with the crying one. Thanks."

Stellar shrugged. "Well, of the three of us, you are the only one who's mentored a non-trained tribute."

"Seventeen years ago."

"More than either of us can say. You're the most experienced – best equipped to handle a tribute who won't stop crying."

"Flatterer."

"Flirt."

They kissed.

Scarlet rolled her eyes, but there was a part of her that envied them. Their relationship, their normal lives, their children. And Felix – he and his wife, Jasmine, were expecting their first child. They had moved on.

But she hadn't. She couldn't. Because she had won the Hunger Games … and it still wasn't enough. Felix – he was happy with what he had done. Fulfilled. Jade and Stellar had the academy to keep them busy, and two young children. Scarlet didn't have the patience to be an instructor; after a few days and several battered would-be-tributes, she and Jade had agreed that teaching at the academy simply wasn't a good fit for her. Stellar had assured her that she would find something else.

But she still hadn't. What was she supposed to do? She had won the Hunger Games in record time – four days, the shortest Games on record after Vester's. She had killed eight tributes, a total only Ivy and Mortimer had surpassed. So why did she still feel second-best? Why couldn't she do what Felix had done – hang up his sword, be happy with what he had, and leave the Games behind? After the thrill of the Games, a normal life – even the life that Jade and Stellar had – seemed dull in comparison.

What was she supposed to do now?


Elaine Willis, 14

This wasn't what she'd had in mind.

Elaine buried her face in her mother's shirt. Only a few days ago, she had been complaining that they never let her do anything. While her brother Terence was in training to be a Peacekeeper, she was expected to be a proper lady. To say please and thank you and excuse me, to keep up with the latest fashions, to always look neat and tidy and fancy, like the daughter of a Head Peacekeeper should.

She'd told them she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in District One. She wanted to explore. She wanted an adventure. She wanted to do something with her life.

This wasn't what she'd meant.

She'd never even thought about the Games. Not really. She wasn't big enough or strong enough to train, and her parents would never have let her, anyway – not even as a precaution, just in case she was reaped. There was always someone who would volunteer. The reaping itself was a bit of a joke.

Until now.

"Elaine, I—" Terrence started, but Elaine shot him a dirty look. She hadn't really expected to be able to get away. Some part of her had known better. But she hadn't thought he would be the one to catch her.

He had only been doing his job, of course. They had both reacted out of instinct. Her instincts had told her to run. His had told him to follow orders. She knew she shouldn't be upset. If he hadn't caught her, one of the others would have. Maybe even her father. But, still, she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe – maybe – she could have made it. Maybe she could have gotten away.

But then what? Where would she have gone? She couldn't have run forever. Eventually, they would have caught her. Maybe it was better to just go quietly.

Elaine held her mother even tighter. She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to leave all of this behind. All the pleases and thank yous she'd been taught wouldn't help her in the arena. Now that she had gotten what she had thought she'd wanted – a little excitement – she would give anything to have her life back. To live in peace with her family and friends.

But, in order to do that, she would have to make it back from the Games. She would have to fight. She would have to kill. And, now that it came to it, she wasn't sure she could. But she didn't have a choice anymore.

What was she supposed to do now?


Molly "Henri" Saunders, 18

This wasn't supposed to happen to her.

Henri and Lucy held each other close. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not here. Not in District One. Henri hated the Career system as much as she hated everything about the Games, but at least she had always been safe. She'd never had to worry about being reaped. So she had been free to hate the Games, safe in the knowledge that she would never have anything to do with them.

Until now.

"I can't do it," she whispered, holding her best friend even tighter. "I can't be one of them." Even the thought of it made her sick – the thought of killing, of taking a life. She had spent her whole life hating the Careers. Hating the victors. Hating the Games and everyone in them. How could she become one of them now?

"Yes, you can," Lucy whispered back. "You have to. You have to at least try. I don't know what I would do if…" She trailed off. "If I could trade places with you, I—"

"I know," Henri nodded. Lucy had trained a little – more for fun than for anything else. She had never really planned on volunteering, had never really been good enough. It was a hobby. But it would still have given her a better chance.

But if Lucy had been able to take her place, there would have been no need for it. Because that would mean that someone else could, too. Someone who wanted to volunteer. Someone who wanted to go into the Games. Someone who wanted to kill.

Henri had never imagined she would find herself wishing people could volunteer.

"Promise me you'll try," Lucy pleaded. "That you won't just give up. You have to try to come home."

Henri nodded. "I promise." And she meant it. Because, somehow, thinking about the Careers, I can't had become I won't. Maybe she could kill. Maybe she could become a monster. But she wouldn't. She would try to win, but not like them. Not by killing. She would find another way.

Henri squeezed her eyes shut tight. Part of her knew she was grasping at straws, but what else was she supposed to do? She wasn't a killer. She wasn't a fighter. But she was going into the Games, anyway – where fighting and killing were what kept tributes alive a little longer.

What was she supposed to do now?


Daedem Luthra, 18

Part of him hadn't expected Sansa to come.

Daedem watched his sister awkwardly. They had barely spoken since their mother's death. They had never been very close, and, in the last year, they had simply gone their separate ways. Sansa had moved in with her boyfriend, and Daedem lived alone. Maybe it wasn't an ideal situation, but it had suited them well.

Until now.

"You made quite a scene at the reaping," Sansa said at last, as if she couldn't think of anything else to say.

Daedem scoffed. He was probably going to his death, and that was all she could think of? That he might have embarrassed himself by making a scene? "We all did," he pointed out. "At least I didn't try to run away."

"Or burst into tears," Sansa added with a hint of a smile. "So the audience will probably like you better than those two."

Daedem nodded. That was his sister – already thinking about what the audience would want to see. He hadn't thought about it that way. He'd simply panicked. Reacted. He hadn't cared what the audience would think.

And he still didn't. Chances were, he didn't have much time left. Why should he waste it worrying about what some idiots in the Capitol thought of him? If they couldn't wrap their minds around the idea that someone might actually be upset about the possibility of dying, that was their problem – not his.

He had enough problems of his own.

Soon, Sansa was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts. No one else came. Not that he was expecting anyone. There were people he knew, of course – people around school, people around the district. But no one who would really notice that he was missing. No one who would care if he never came back.

But he would care. Maybe he didn't have anyone else to fight for, but why did that matter? In the end, no one in the arena was fighting for their friends, for their family, for their district. They were fighting for their lives. And so would he.

Daedem leaned back in his chair, mind reeling at the thought. Fighting. Killing. He'd never imagined that he could be the one sitting here. Children in the other districts – they knew there was a chance. But he had never even considered the idea. The thought of fighting, of dying, of killing – that had never even crossed his mind.

What was he supposed to do now?


"I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair. Then I thought, wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair, and all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them? So now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the universe."