A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, coaster317, richards25 and dreamzspark for reviewing!

As there's been quite a bit of interest as to the competition, it's going ahead. Basically, I give you the victor, and you write a chapter about them, summary included. The best-written and most creative chapter will receive a place in the story. In terms of word count, I don't really care, but at least a thousand if possible. I'm deliberately giving as little detail away as possible about their character to allow everyone as much creative freedom as possible.

The Games will be the 51st, and the victor will be a seventeen-year-old boy from District 10 called Toby Denham. He's mentioned by name in the later chapters of my story 'Second Time Unlucky', but I never gave him a speaking part or any physical description. Everything about him, from his appearance to his family to his preferred weapon in the arena is up to you.

Lastly, the deadline is when I post the chapter for the 50th Games, so you should have three weeks or so to write this.

If you've got any queries, please PM me. I'm willing to explain. Also, I'm receiving chapters by DocX, so PM me if you want to establish a connection to send work through to me.

Well, that's it. May the best author win.

And on with the story. Yesterday's chapter included one constant in the history of the Hunger Games; the cornucopia bloodbath. Today's chapter focuses on another ever-present part of the Games; the notorious Career Alliance.

I will admit, I altered the victor's name to fit the song, but it doesn't detract anything from the story. I hope you enjoy it :)

"It was an April morning when they told us we should go

As I turn to you, you smiled at me

How could we say no?"

- Robert Plant, 1976.

The 37th Annual Hunger Games

Achilles Floyd (18), District 2 Male

Led Zeppelin - Achilles' Last Stand (1976)

I finally stop running when I'm certain that Jacob, the boy from District 6, is so far back that he's out of sight. Out in the frozen wasteland he could keep track of me, so I took to the pine forests that line the tundra to evade him.

It was my own unawareness that cost me when he confronted me out in the barren icy wasteland. I had been paying very little attention to the surroundings, and he caught me unawares. I know that I am taller, stronger, faster and more trained than Jacob, but with Jacob suddenly appearing just five yards from me (I really had been that careless), I had no choice to run.

I wasn't scared (okay, maybe at one point I was a little), but I knew that staying to fight wouldn't play to my strengths. I was armed with my bow; a weapon that is too clumsy to use at close range. If I had taken time to draw my dagger from my belt, he would have been upon me before I was ready to strike. My cannon would have already fired. I just needed time and space to prepare myself before confronting Jacob again. I'm no coward, just a tactician.

I lay my equipment down in the snow to conduct a quick situation report. As for food and water, I have no issues. I have enough supplies to last me at least three or four more days. It might not sound like much, but I know that the Games won't last more than two more days. I've lost count of how many nights I've spent in the arena, but I'm certain that it's more than the entirety of the Games in most years. Plus, it's been three days since the last other tribute, the boy from District 1, died, presumably at Jacob's hand. I have no idea how he died, really. The Career Alliance split unusually early this year, so I've no idea of his fate. All I know that he is dead, and that is all that really matters to me.

Then I turn my attention to my key supplies; the things that have kept me alive in the arena. My black sleeping bag, my electric torch and my fleece-lined leather coat, which has been my true saviour in these bitter, icy conditions that we have been flung into.

Looking to the weapons department, I have my favoured weapon, the simple bow and a quiver of ten arrows that I have already used to kill twice during these Games. Of course, as proved in my earlier confrontation, it's useless at close range, and so I have my simple, crude dagger, which currently lies next to my bow in the snow.

Realising that I should probably get a move on with hunting Jacob before the Gamemakers force me to, I cram all my supplies into the orange rucksack that I was given at the cornucopia. It's no surprise that Jacob found me so easily in the tundra. I bet you could see that bag from a mile away. I slip my quiver of arrows over one shoulder and put my bow over the other. I hold my dagger out in my right hand. Here in the dense woodland, a bow would be useless. I know that Jacob favours a sword (he was stunning with them in training) so a dagger probably won't be of much use, but it's better than fighting with my fists.

With the vague idea of heading back towards the tundra to find Jacob, I walk slowly through the woods. And then I see him.

Jacob stands in a clearing, which must be twenty metres wide, where the weak wintry sun shines down softly onto the snowy ground. He holds a bow in his left hand, an arrow loaded. No doubt he took it from my fallen ally, the girl from Four who was one of the best archers I've ever seen. It doesn't surprise me to see his weapon of choice, his sword, sheathed at his side.

He's facing away from me, and no doubt hasn't seen me as I creep up to crouch in the snow-covered undergrowth at the edge of the clearing. The arena is almost perfectly quiet; I know that any sudden movements will give me away. Although he might be able to hear me, I doubt he'll see me, as I'm covered by the shade of the canopy.

This is what I'm good at. Using stealth to hunt down my enemies. Making sure that I'm completely hidden for the silent strike. The assassin. The sniper. That's me. He won't know what's happening until it's too late.

I pull an arrow from my quiver as quietly as I can and prepare it for its final journey into Jacob's skull as I ready the bow. I raise the bow, preparing to shoot the final arrow of the 37th Annual Hunger Games, adding pressure to the bowstring.

"Don't try to hide from me, Floyd," I hear someone murmur, and it takes me a minute to realise that it is Jacob. "I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE!"

In an instant, I drop to the floor as Jacob turns on his heels and fires an arrow mere inches above my head. I've no idea how he knew where I was, but I don't have time to muse over it, either, as when I look up, Jacob has dropped his bow and is advancing upon me with a sword. Instinctively I reach for another arrow, but by the time I remember that it would have been quicker to pull out my dagger from my belt, I've gotten an arrow in my hand. I clumsily ready the arrow and look up to see Jacob just two metres from me, his sword above his head, poised ready to swing.

Shocked, I shoot my arrow at random, and for a moment I'm worried that I've missed but the arrow sinks into Jacob's left thigh just above the knee, and I hear him cry out in pain as he drops his sword and both of his hands go to the arrow in his leg. He staggers twice, giving me time to draw my dagger before thrusting it through his neck, silencing his screams. I let go of the blade as it falls to the ground along with him, still buried in his throat. He quivers once or twice on the floor before falling still.

Then I hear the cannon followed by the fanfare, and the voice of the new Capitol announcer, Claudius Templesmith, and I know that it is all over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victor of the Thirty-Seventh Annual Hunger Games - Achilles Floyd!"

A/N: I don't believe this needs a summary, the ending is already there :)

If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Need I bother reminding you that I welcome constructive criticism?

Also, remember to PM me if you're interested in the competition.

P.S. Beetee's Games are next :)