A.N.: The first two chapters may seem like your ordinary amature fan fiction, but I wrote these a long while ago and I wanted to keep them this way to show the progression I made in my writing. So don't let the quality of the first two chapters hold you back from reading the others!

Today is the day when everything changes. Today is the Reaping. All citizens need to attend, so Mother and I hurried to the Justice Building. It looks like an old, grey train station, which fits District 6's specialization in transport.

As I stand on the town square now, together with all the boys, I can't help but look over my shoulder to find my mother. Our eyes meet and we gaze at each other for a moment, speaking more words through our expressions than otherwise possible. We nod and I look ahead of me again, where a row of Peacekeepers guards the main stage.

In a few moments the ceremony will begin and right there, on that stage, Leshana Merryweather, our Capitol Representative, will pick a boy and a girl. Leshana's a 48-year-old woman who has an obsession with red. Everything about her – clothes, hair and shoes – is mostly bright red.

Anyway, my name is Finn Hartman. I'm 18, so this is the last year my name is in the boys' Reaping Ball. The perfect time to be reaped! I shouldn't be so excited, but I'm not your average District 6 guy.

Let me explain. My family has been a member of an underground, religious cult for generations. This Cult wishes to overthrow the Capitol and seize power over Panem. Combined with its manipulative methods, it uses the Hunger Games to send in a tribute, win, and start a revolution.

Not a single member ever succeeded, though (otherwise I wouldn't be standing here, of course), so this is where I come in. This year I'm the Cult's tribute and I'm determined to win. Yet I'm not just doing this for the Cult; I have a hidden agenda.

Last year my lover, Ian, was reaped for the Games (oh yeah, BTW, I'm gay). He was an amazing boyfriend and a terrific archer, but, nonetheless, he was killed, ironically enough by that year's Cult tribute. However, later on the idiot tripped and fell down a gorge, breaking his neck.

Either way, my Ian wouldn't have died at all if these "Games" didn't exist, so my second motivation to win is to avenge Ian's death and make the Capitol pay in blood!

I already practiced my revenge on the Peacekeepers. The past year I killed at least one a month and Mayor Marcus Jones has had difficulty hiding it from the Capitol. He's actually pretty nervous about it.

The doors of town hall open and Leshana Merryweather walks out. As expected, her hair and her pumps are a bright red. She's wearing an extravagant, huge, red dress laced with pink fur. Red ribbons are sporadically attached to her dress.

I look over my shoulder a second time, but now to take in the whole scene behind me with my always observant eyes just the way Mother taught me. I see people staring blankly ahead, others panicking a bit and lastly folks with tears in their eyes.

I turn around again to face Leshana, who's grinning. It's unsettling how she's always happy about the Games. I'm smiling too, but not as much as her. Her grin is just borderline psychopathic. I smile slightly, just enough to seem noble or courageous. It's all in the details!

The whispers fluttering through the crowd die down as Leshana makes her way to the microphone on stage. She's shown on the big screen, put up on the side of the Justice Building.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" her voice echoes through the speakers. I pick up a hint of disgust in her tone.

She quickly moves through the ceremony. First, she announces the Capitol's propaganda video, which is then shown on the screen. When it's done, she keeps smiling and babbles about the "honour" of the Games. Secondly, she immediately switches to picking the female tribute, saying "Ladies first!"

She walks to the glass bowl on her left, dramatically puts her hand in and pulls out a little card. Back at the mike, she opens the paper and reads: "Holly Jones!"

I look over my shoulder once again and see a 16-year-old girl with shoulder-length, brown hair leave the crowd. She's wearing a yellow dress with pastel flowers on it, but has a distant look in her blue eyes. Without hesitation she walks on stage and goes to stand next to Leshana.

Our Capitol Representative then continues with: "And now for the boys!"

She repeats her act with the bowl on her right and pulls out my name. I know she'll say my name because the Cult made sure of it. I do, however, wonder how they did. Maybe a threat here, a blackmail there, an unfortunate 'accident', or perhaps even a sudden 'suicide'? Anyway, Leshana will say my name, forced to or through sabotage.

"Finn Hartman!" she calls.

I act surprised and scared for a moment, then I straighten my back and stride away from the crowd towards the stage. I let the raven cloak I'm wearing wave in the wind as I walk. My face should be an impenetrable mask of courage, but the closer I get to the Peacekeepers, the more difficulty I have controlling my expression.

As I close my eyes, a whole world unlocks itself within my mind. Memories of Ian trickle in, my thoughts wander. Last year's Reaping plays before my eyes.

Ian and I stood next to each other between the other 17-year-old boys. Since everyone was so very busy with worrying about the Reaping, no one noticed we were holding hands. His large hand delicately held mine, calloused from all the training.

He smiled his ever so handsome crooked smile to me while Leshana Merryweather did her boring routine. I scowled when she mentioned "honour" a third time during her speech.

"Smile, honey! We wouldn't want to disappoint the Capitol, would we?" he joked.

I scowled again: "The Capitol can kiss my..."

"I know," he interrupted. That he did indeed; he knew me better than anyone.

In the two years we were dating, our relationship had been secretive, but with more passion than the way Capitol residents watched the Hunger Games. Ian was the only person I had ever met who was just like me and who felt the same way about me as I did about him.

As I watched his rugged and masculine face, and ignored Leshana, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. That had to wait, though, so instead, I tightened my grip on his hand.

He noticed and his crooked smile appeared again. He knew just what to do to melt my heart. But that would all be destroyed in 3, 2, 1...

"The tribute boy is...Ian Collins!" Leshana said.

With that one simple sentence, my world collapsed. Ian's smile instantly disappeared and so did mine. His grip tightened on my hand and I was close to breaking his.

"Ian Collins?" the voice, sounding distant in my ears, repeated.

"Shut your pie hole!" I wanted to scream, but that would've made the Peacekeepers angry.

Ian slowly let go of my hand and moved away from me. Tears formed in my eyes and I stammered his name: "I...Ian!"

He didn't speak, but his lips formed the words 'I love you'. Quickly realising there was nothing I could do, I did the same.

"I love you."

By the time that painful memory ended, I was on stage next to Leshana, who had Holly on her left. I numb the pain that lingers and fulfil my job for the Cult. I look over the crowd, a courageous expression on my face. I have to look like a hero in their eyes, so I play my part.

Next, the three of us turn around and enter the Justice Building. May the odds be ever in your favor, I think.