Okay, so the Games have now and officially begun! But just letting you all know now, this only the first part of the bloodbath. I was originally going to do it all in one chapter, but after hitting 5000 wordss and not even being nearly done, I figured I'd do it in parts. I think people would cry if they saw an updated chapter 10 000 words long :)

Also, having it in two parts gives me a chance to get better! This is actually my first Hunger Games story to make it all the way to the Games, so I'm a bit new at doing deaths and all that stuff, but I'd love to get better, so leave a review if you've got any advice! Too fast? Too slow? Not gory enough? Too gory? Though I don't think the Hunger Games could ever get too gory :)

And I'm really sorry to all those who's tributes died, believe me it was so hard to decide. I made up my mind, changed it, changed it back and changed it to something completely different. So I'm sorry!

Anyways, enjoy the first part of the bloodbath!

Dylian Carte, District 11 Male

I've known some Hunger Games arenas to be pretty different. But I never saw this coming. I don't think anyone did.

As the last few metal plates click into place, even the Careers can't help staring at the arena before them. We're all placed in a circle near the edges of a tall, imposing tower. From this vantage point, I can see the entire arena spread out before us. At the base of the tower stretches out a vast, green forest and I can just see the edges of a sea sparkling near the south side of the arena while a miniature version of a castle rises from the north. There's probably more to the place, but the densely packed trees completely impede anyone from seeing what's inside the forest. And really, anything could be hiding in there.

So how are we supposed to get down? I wonder, scanning the edges of the tower. They can't just keep us all up here; the Games would be over in a matter of minutes. And I can't stay; three tributes away from me is the girl from 2, and I don't like the way she's eying the supplies. Then how . . .

There. Right behind me attached to the roof of the tower is a long rope that stretches all the way to the ground beneath us. At first glance it doesn't look all that sturdy, but then again, it has to be. The Capitol wants a show; watching tribute after tribute fall to their deaths isn't going to be all that entertaining to watch.

Then let's give them something to watch. Suddenly, I smile. Originally, the ropes hadn't seemed like a terribly good escape plan to me; couldn't someone just try and cut through it while I'm climbing down? I'd have to be fast. Or I could just take advantage of the opportunity I have now when none of the other tributes can move.

Doubt clouds my thoughts for a second. I've only got one shot to do this right, or I'll be dead for sure. And what about the landmines? They're set to blow if a tribute takes a step off their plate before the gong has sounded. Then again, I won't exactly be taking any steps.

I take a deep breath and steel myself. Everyone else is using their sixty seconds to try and formulate an escape plan, but I've got other ideas. For me, the Games are beginning now.

I notice Emerald looking at me from her position seven tributes to my left. This is it; time to give them a show. I give her a cheery wink and a salute, attracting the attention from some of the other tributes as they look over to see what I'm doing. I keep a smile on my face and for a moment they just dismiss me as being an overly-confident jerk, but then without warning I leap backwards and off of the tower.

Whatever sounds the tributes make in response to my reaction is lost as I plummet through the air, the roar of the wind almost deafening. But as quickly as I can, I reach out and grab the rope hanging on the side of the tower. My descent jerks to a halt and my arms are nearly pulled out of their sockets as I struggle to hold on. Gritting my teeth at the pain, I waste no time scurrying down the rope, nearly sliding in my effort to get away from the tower. My arms are sore, my hands burning from the rough surface of the rope, but I don't care. In fact, I allow myself a little grin. I made it. Once again, I've cheated the system.

But of course, the Gamemakers will try anything to not be shown up; since I never actually set off the mines, they resort to doing it manually and the cacophonous boom hits my ears just as the rope slackens and suddenly I stop climbing down the tower and start falling. But they're too late; I took the fact that they'd set off the mines into consideration and though the fall knocks the wind out of me as I crash to the ground, I've gotten far enough down the tower to not even get badly injured, let alone killed. I fell 12 feet, at most.

My ears are just returning to normal from hearing the loud blast of the explosion when the gong rings out and the bloodbath begins. Though not for me. I smile to myself as I hobble into the woods, the sounds of shouting and clanging metal audible from even down here. Up there, tributes are going to be dying. But I won't be one of them.

At least, not today.

Gwen Watkins, District 7 Female

I can't see what happened on the other side of the glimmering Cornucopia, but I can hear the explosion and feel the vibrations it causes. Some idiot must have stepped off their platform before the gong rang out. The image of Rowan immediately comes to mind, but I dismiss it; unfortunately, he's not that stupid.

Speaking of my hated enemy, I glance around the ring of tributes, looking for my district partner. No sign of him; he must be on the other side of the Cornucopia. Although I'm sure I'll be seeing him soon enough. There's no way he'd let me get away from the bloodbath alive.

The gong sounds and I hardly realise it as I take off running to the right of the Cornucopia; heading right into the thick of the fights would probably not be the best idea. Especially since I know Rowan will be there. And this time, I feel can feel a slow trickle of fear running through me rather than the usual disgust that fills me when I hear his name. What I need, is a weapon, I think, and thankfully I can see a stray knife lying not too far from my position. I alter my course and head instead for the weapon, never slowing as I scoop it up from the ground, narrowly dodging an arrow that flies straight for my head as I do so. I turn to see the youngest Career, the girl from District 1, reloading her bow, but she's already moved onto her next target as more tributes come near the golden horn.

I pick the arrow up as well (who knows when it might come in handy) and start heading for the edge of the tower, hoping to find one of those strong ropes I saw earlier that could lead me away from this bloody zone and into the safety of the forest below. Already tributes are getting killed; I watch in horror as the District 4 female advances on another girl tribute, from 11 I think. The Career slashes at the thirteen year-old with her axe and the younger one cries out and falls, clutching her stomach and trying desperately to stop her blood from seeping out onto the tower roof. The District 4 girl, Meredith I think her name was, slowly advances and the one from 11, Emerald I'm pretty sure, uses one hand to try and pull herself along in a desperate attempt to get away. Meredith smirks, one so large I can see it from here, and pulls a long sword out of her belt with almost loving care, then drives it down through Emerald's leg and into the ground. Her shrieks are nearly as deafening as the landmine explosion, and she begins to sob, her attempts to escape vanishing as she tries to keep her leg still so as to not open the wound anymore. Meredith however, seems to have other plans. She grabs the hilt of the weapon and twists it, eliciting another scream from Emerald. Meredith's smile widens, making me sick, and twists it once more before stopping, letting Emerald try and deal with the agony before she ends her life. The younger girl is still sobbing, clutching her leg, but I watch as her cries slowly turn into deep, rasping gasps, and with one final muster of courage, she looks straight into Meredith's eyes, daring her to continue.

I stop watching at that point; the smirk on Meredith's face leaves me with no doubt about how it'll end. Emerald's life is over, her shot at victory has ended. It had to happen; only one person can win the Games after all. So why do I feel so awful for just watching and doing nothing?

I'm so preoccupied with my thoughts that I don't notice where I'm running and I accidentally barrel into another tribute, knocking us both to the ground. I hesitate for a second, confused. But hesitations can kill in the Games.

I roll over and stand, knife out and ready to attack my opponent, half-wondering why they hadn't already made their move. My reflexes are slower; most of the other tributes could have managed to kill me, or at the very least, injure me. And then I see the pale skin and nearly as white hair and I realise why I'm not dead yet. The person I ran into was Taralo Hicken, the boy from District 6.

He stares up at me with wide, frightened eyes, making no move to try and attack me back. It would be so easy right now; a quick flick of my wrist and my knife would be sent spiralling into his head. One more tribute down.

He catches a glimpse of something behind me and his eyes widen, his mouth forming an unspoken cry. I turn to see two tributes on the ground, fighting as hard as they can with their fists, as neither seems to have a weapon. The blonde-haired, older one I recognise as Ram from District 3. I can't get a good glimpse of his opponent as he seems to be pinned to the ground by the former, but as Ram is hit by a painful blow to left eye he falls back slightly and I can see who the other tribute is. Lore Fury.

I look back at Taralo, who's staring at them, every so often jerking forwards as if he's trying to get to them, but something's stopping him from going. His eyes meet mine; pale blue ones staring into my own brown orbs and I almost feel as though he's asking for something. What? To not hurt him? To help Lore? Sorry, but I already made that decision during our week at the Capitol. These kinds of allies will only drag me down. But still, I hesitate, the knife positioned to throw but never leaving my fingers. Kill Taralo and let Ram kill Lore, which appears to be his intention as I glance back over at the scene and watch his hands reach for the younger boy's throat. Then that'll be the end of their alliance. So is that what I pick? A devastating end?

Or a new beginning?

Lore Fury, District 5 Male

The District 11 male's little display completely threw me off, and I didn't realise the gong had gone off until about a minute later. Cursing, I started running, dodging and weaving through other tributes that had already begun to fight. I needed to get off this tower as soon as possible; but first I had to find my ally.

"Taralo!" I shouted, my eyes scanning the fighting tributes, looking for his white hair. It's not exactly hard to miss. "Taralo!" Where is he? Already dead? No, I think, pushing the thought from my mind. He can't be. Not yet.

I race around the golden Cornucopia, passing the District 12 boy as he runs in the opposite direction, probably looking for his own ally; his district partner was right between me and Dylian. Great, so I've found his ally. Why can't I find my own?

I'm just wondering if I might have gone in the wrong direction searching for Taralo when out of nowhere a tribute tackles me, knocking us both to the ground. For a second my brain doesn't comprehend what just happened, but a painful punch on the side of my face brings me back to my senses. I retaliate immediately, throwing a punch upwards and hitting my attacker in the eye, causing him to wince. I know who he is now; Ram Underhill, the guy from 3. Unfortunately my hit doesn't sway him enough to allow me to struggle out from underneath and get to my feet, which is really what I need because I'm really not in a good position pinned to the ground. As if he can read my thoughts, Ram emphasises them by delivering a pounding blow into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. Coughing and gasping, I try desperately to get the air back into my lungs, consequently slowing my reflexes. I don't even register the next movement of his hand, but suddenly there's a crack and searing hot pain races through me as blood spills from my now broken nose. Ram pulls back his hand and just stares for a few seconds, looking from me to his hand, which is stained red with blood. My blood.

"Sorry," he says, and the weirdest thing about it is that it's a genuine apology. "But I guess this is how the game has to be played." He sighs regretfully, and stretches out his hands but not to throw a punch this time. I'm still a bit out of it from his last hit, the throbbing pain in my nose currently occupying all of my thoughts, but I do register what happens when his hands reach around my throat. No, no, no, no, I think, my brain going into overdrive as I begin to panic. He can't . . . but already I can feel the fingers tightening around my throat, and despite my struggling attempts to breathe I can't get any air into my lungs. My hands go to his, desperately trying to peel them away but it's no use; he's too strong. And I'm going to die.

This is it, I think, but I'm still struggling for air, still trying to get him off of me because this can't be it; this can't be how I'm going to spend my last moments. It can't be over-

All of a sudden, Ram's grip loosens and he coughs, covering my face in some sort of warm, gross liquid. Blood. I look up at him, wondering if maybe this is some sort of lack-of-oxygen induced hallucination my brain has created. Maybe I'm already dead. But that can't be right, can it? I'm pretty sure if I were dead, I wouldn't be in pain. And I don't think that hearing the screams and shouts of the other tributes is supposed to be in there either.

Ram's eyes darken, his lips forming words that he never gets to utter as slowly, his heart stops. Someone pushes him over and he rolls off of me but I really don't care who this new person is; I just want air back in my lungs. I'll never take oxygen for granted again.

"If you wouldn't mind," a voice says, dripping with disdain. "Today would be nice."

I open my eyes and stare up at the person standing above me. Gwen. Gwen? What?

She must have noted by confusion, because she answers my unspoken question. "You said you wanted an alliance, didn't you?" And her features soften as she smiles slightly and gives me her hand. "Now let's get out of here."

"Taralo," I start to say as she hauls me up, but I can barely get the first syllable out before I'm coughing and gasping again. I guess speaking and getting strangled don't exactly go hand in hand. But she doesn't need to answer, because a moment later my other ally appears behind Gwen, looking fearful and as pale as ever but somehow, miraculously unharmed. He stares at me in horror and I realise that I probably look like a mess, what with being covered in both mine and Ram's blood. I wipe my hand across my face in an effort to get rid of the red, sticky substance, but I end up just swirling it around on my face more than anything else.

"Come on," Gwen says, pulling her knife out of Ram and wiping it on his uniform, a slight look of disgust on her face. Then she turns back to us. "You can clean up later. Right now we have to go."

I nod and the two of us follow her to the edge of the tower, where the ropes lay waiting for tributes to make their escapes. After assessing my shaky condition and the fact that Taralo's shaking like a leaf, she deals out the commands; she'll go down first, then me, then Taralo, in case either of us fall. Though I doubt she'd be able to really catch us. The best course of action would be to wait until the two of us are in better conditions, but the one thing we need for that is time. Which is something we don't have. She gets down and grabs a hold of the rope, slowly letting herself down the tower, and I wait until there's enough space between the two of us for me to go. I turn to Taralo and try to give him a reassuring smile, though it probably looks pretty hideous right now. But the feeling is there. We're out of the bloodbath. Soon, we'll be safe, at least for the moment. And best of all, we're alive.

Rowan Hollows, District 7 Male

I advance on the trembling District 3 girl, who's looking around desperately for an escape. But really, there is none; she's backed up against the golden Cornucopia, no weapons nearby for her to grab. Although I doubt she'd be able to use them even if she could get her hands on one.

"P-please," she whispers, cradling her left arm, which I cut straight to the bone with my own weapon. Blood rolls down her face from another cut on her forehead, mixing with the tears from her eyes. "This-this isn't how it's s-supposed to end."

"It is for you," I say, and thrust my knife forwards for the fatal blow. She gasps in pain and her fingers wrap around the hilt in a futile effort to pull it out and save herself. Her lips tremble as she tries to speak, but all that comes out is a deluge of blood. Still, she manages to mouth three words: Happily ever after. And then she's gone.

"Not today," I whisper in answer to her final attempt at words, slowly pulling my knife from her stomach. "Maybe next time."

Of course, there's no answer from her. I smirk and get to my feet. Normally I might have drawn out a kill longer, but really I just wanted to get this one over with; it's a distraction from my main goal. Gwen

Really, it's all because I had to make this thing perfect. I couldn't exactly kill her with substandard weapons, now could I? No, what I wanted was the meat-cleaver sort of knives that we used at the butchery. That way I could make her death really fun.

I step away from Sparkie and head to the nearest pile of weapons, searching through them for what I'm looking for, ignoring the fights going on around me. I think I made it evident in training that any tribute who attempted to cross me would be very, very sorry. So I'm left undisturbed.

The slightest feeling of doubt overtakes me and for a second I worry that the Gamemakers didn't include my special knives in the piles of weapons, but those thoughts quickly vanish as I move an axe aside and see them. Two cleavers, identical to the ones that I used at home. I smile evilly. Excellent.

However, my positive mood is somewhat dampened as I head around the Cornucopia looking for my district partner only to watch her black hair quickly disappear over the edge of the tower. No. I start running for them, watching as the boys from 5 and 6 follow her down the rope. I thought she wasn't allying with anyone? Not that I'm worried about those two losers; but I don't want her getting away from me. This was supposed to be it. My ultimate chance!

I keep sprinting towards them, thinking over my options. Of course, I'll have to follow them down the rope now and kill her at the base of the tower; it'd be no fun just cutting the rope and letting her fall to her death. I've been planning my revenge for too long now to give her that painless a death. I'll catch her at the bottom and make quick work of her little allies before we move in to the real fun.

I'm so distracted by my plans that I barely register the whistling sound of a weapon flying through the air before it hits me. Luckily my reflexes are good, and I roll to the side as the spear aimed at my back just barely grazes my arm. I come back up into a standing position and turn angrily to find out whoever did this. I don't have time for distractions; if there's another tribute wanting a death wish, then they'll have to make an appointment.

It's the girl from 9, standing by the Cornucopia. I snarl viciously at her and she grabs another spear from the pile near her before taking careful aim and throwing it again. I dodge to the side and heft my knives. Fine. This girl wants a fight, she can have one. I turn slightly back towards where Gwen disappeared, my face set. I'll get her, I promise myself. I will hunt her down and make her sorely regret the day she ever crossed me.

Imogen Torrini, District 9 Female

Originally I was running around trying to find Achilles so we could meet up and get off of the tower. But I saw the boy from 7, Rowan, heading towards the younger group of allies from 5, 6 and 7, and I had to intervene. Maybe saving tributes won't get me home. But I could never forgive myself if I stood by and watched him kill them, knowing that I could have done something but didn't.

My spears seem to only anger him, but at least they draw his attention away from the others. I would have been fine with leaving it at that; I've seen this maniac in training and I know that taking him in a fight would be incredibly dangerous. But it seems that Rowan isn't going to let me have that choice.

I grab a sword just as he reaches me at the Cornucopia and swing it to block the jab he tried to make with his knife. He swings again with the other and I duck, coming back up with a blow of my own. Unfortunately, he's pretty skilled too, and manages to block the attack. "You swing like a girl," he says mockingly as I dodge another attack.

"My father is the owner of the biggest weapon's company in District 9,"I say, retaliating with another blow and smiling when it nearly knocks him off balance. "I played with weapons as a child for fun."

He loses the smirk when I almost best him, and his face just looks dangerous now. "My father's a butcher," he says, swinging with a lot more force than before and I just barely manage to block it, feeling the vibrations all through my body. "I killed animals for fun. Figured people wouldn't be all that different. Just less tasty." Then he grins again, a nasty, evil grin that makes my blood boil. He may not be from a Career district, but he has the mindset of one and it angers me. How I could have ever thought to ally with these monsters is beyond me. They kill kids, innocent kids who just happened to be in their way. Well, I intend to stop that from happening.

The two of us continue our fight, though it looks almost more like some sort of intricate dance as we slash at each other and dodge blows. But no one is specifically at the advantage, and I've begun to wonder on the outcome of this battle. Rowan and I are pretty evenly matched; he's powerful, but let's his rage fuel that, leading to him making some mistakes. My sword flashes and suddenly a gash appears on his left arm, almost identical to the spear wound I gave him on his right. He snarls again and fights back harder, but I can see that he's tiring. I might actually win this fight.

My weakness was my right ear. I still can't hear as well with it, and it was my downfall in the end.

I don't register the sound of the flying knife until it's too late; it slices by the right side of my head and I cry out as pain flares up all around me. Rowan takes the opportunity to knock me to the ground, where he stands, staring over me grinning that evil smirk, knives in both hands. I should do something, I should . . . but none of my muscles are responding. I feel slowed down, groggy, due to blood loss, I assume. But that can't be right. I put my hand to the side of my face, expecting to find that the knife just sheared off a few of my brown curls even though a part of me knows it must have been worse because of the pain I feel. I can feel a sticky substance coating the side of my head and nothing else. Nothing else . . . I run my hand frantically over my head again, ignoring the pain, but it's true. There's nothing but an open wound and a lot of blood. My ear is . . .

"Thought you might have been able to use the help." I hear the voice from far away and only on the one side. Suddenly the girl from 4, Meredith, comes into view.

Rowan sneers. "I don't need any help, especially not to take care of her." He kneels beside me and smirks. "So, how should we do this? No one is stupid enough to attack me, except for you, that is. So we have plenty of time on our hands. And you deprived me of a kill I so very much wanted to make." He looks at me, dark brown eyes piercing my blue ones, and I can see that this boy does not possess a hint of compassion or mercy. But what was I expecting? I'm smarter than that.

Without warning, he stabs downwards, right into my thigh. I can feel the knife twisting, severing tissue and muscle until it hits bone. It's all I can do not to scream; I have to be strong, for Noah and for my dear Rachel, who are both probably watching right now. Oh gosh, my Rachel. What is she thinking now?

The thought of my daughter sends strength coursing through my veins, and I try to stand, attempting to ignore the searing pain in my leg. "I don't think so," Rowan says smirking and shoves me back to the ground. But I still feel stronger, and though my leg is damaged my arm isn't. With all my force, I pull it back and punch him right in his smirking face. His arrogant expression immediately disappears as his head jolts backwards from the impact. I find it interesting that Meredith makes no move to help him. In fact, she seems amused to watch him snarl in rage. I have a feeling that this alliance the Careers have is not going to last long. She says something about "leaving him to play," and goes off, presumably in search of more innocent children to murder.

Rowan's enraged face comes into view, his venomous glare almost enough to make me flinch. I've never been the sole focus of one person's entire rage before, and it is a frightening thing to behold. And worse is the knowledge that I've just exacerbated the situation with my small act of defiance. I didn't want Rachel to suffer while I suffered; but she will now.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts of my daughter as Rowan grabs my wrists with one hand and yanks them upwards, pulling me up slightly off the ground as well. "Think that was funny?" he asks, squeezing the bones together and I tense from the pain, but don't flinch. He growls at my lack of reaction and slams them back onto the ground above my head. "Well, as much as I enjoyed it I think you've got to learn that that's not something you can do to a Career without being punished." His eyes flash as he raises one of his knives. "And I know just the way."