So my friend and I start collecting money while setting out cookies at Back to School Night for our unestablished charity. Not knowing what to do with the money, we asked a teacher, who literally suggested we possibly split and keep the cash. Though, we did give it to Families In Need. Eleven whole bucks.

Switching to overlord powerful POV

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to announce the Victor of the One hundredth Hunger Games."

The fog cleared, a body laying in a ragged heap on the ground. The rise and fall became evident for life and the shaggy head rose, glancing around confused. The headless body of Trey Canter sprawled at the side of a dirt pit. The person climbed to wobbly feet, striding over to the Grinning skulls staring up at you were enough of a shock to send any sane person flying back.

What the fuck was going on?

I just won the Hunger Games? There were still...six-ish people alive. But there were also six skulls (and a Trey head) in the pit. Something about this wasn't right.

A claw came down and the ground started leaving the newly crowned Victor's feet. The ground he left was a patchwork of green and yellow, a dust bowl of dirt scattered about. Everyone was dead? No way. This wasn't happening.

I'm just dead. Or in a dream state. Some sort of drug in me making me see things.

"Congratulations!" a perky sounding nurse giggled. "Now time to go night-night. Just until we reach the Capitol." An IV was jabbed into the Victor's arm, who's brown eyes widened at the woman. They began to flutter shut though, head sinking back on the pillow. Sleep. Be confused later.

-0-

"Where am I?" Westria pounded against the side of the metal walls. The sound echoed off and could be heard throughout the compact area.

Well...

"Shut up, you!" Her voice carried again. Was she dead? No, the voice would probably be gone. Although, that could be her eternal damnation. Hearing Trenton's voice for the rest of her life.

Peek-a-boo...

Fuck it. If she really was dead, there'd be one way to test it. And going back, if she actually did win, she's never want to see Trenton's stupid face ever again. So hey, kill herself, why not. Her hands patted down the sides of her body. Finally, she found a small little tool knife. Pocket knife, idiot.

The blade gleamed in the glow of the single light hanging abover her head. She feared Trenton. That's true. Her friend back home was right about that. Non-asshat Trey. One person actually stood up for her in the face of Trenton. And he was probably already six-feet-under in District One, his idiot girlfriend crying over his body, probably knocked up.

Something about thinking about Carson that way just made her sad all over again. She couldn't think badly for him. Just couldn't.

Taking the knife, she head the flat side to her neck. Just one pull, and it would be over. All over.

The blade began to sink when a voice called from the darkness.

"Don't you dare!" At first, she worried it had been Trenton's voice. She stared sheepishly at the weapon, thinking about how she automatically pulled away. Dammit.

A blonde haired girl (I think...) stumbled up. Smudges of dirt covered her face and in her short hair.

"Please, do not get suicidal. The option sounds pretty good right now, but I don't want your decaying flesh around. It'll probably be very messy." A long, thin hand reached out. The Trenton part said to stab her now but Westria just tossed the blade over. The clatter if teh small object hitting metal branched out from where we sat.

Finally, blonde headed shadow emerged, grey-speckled blue eyes blinking at the Career. They glanced around awkwardly, unsure.

"So...are we supposed to be killing each other right now?" Westria shrugged.

"I'm honestly too tired, and have no idea what's going on," the girl sighed, running a hand through her auburn hair. "So, uh, are we the only ones here." As the light finally hit her face fully, she saw it was the Eleven chick. Wow, Westria thought. I must be really tired.

"I think I heard someone screaming earlier, down there." A long pause passed. "You were screaming too at one point," Robyn shrugged, giving a sheepish expression.

Westria laid her head back on the metal. Voices started up close by. Footsteps carried and two figures joined the social circle. Westria blinked. The girl from Eight and the boy from 6. They awkwardly sat, legs crossed.

"So..." Six said.

"Where's your girlfriend?" Westria couldn't help but ask. The boy just gave her a blank expression.

"She got blown up." Robyn glanced down guiltily, her eyes peeking up at the other girl. Technically, they had been the cause of Arianne's death, having tossed the explosive down the tunnel.

Westria shrugged. "That sucks. My ally was killed by an arrow. The ones I started out with just killed each other." A thought struck. "Where's Asshat?"

Robyn chewed off a hangnail. "Probably rotting in Hell by now. Without a head." A long pause came.

"Good riddence," Six mumbled. The circle grunted in agreement.

"So are we all dead?" Eight asked, scratching her head, sneezing lightly. Westria shrugged.

"Probably."

Robyn frowned at this statement. "Wait, if we're all dead, then that means-" her eyes widened- "that damn bastard. Fuck, I promised him all my stuff if I die." The group raised eyebrows in confusion. "Drale, hello, he won." More blank stares. Then Six's eyes widened in acknowlegdement.

"Wait, yeah, that was Tanya's district partner. So where are we?"

Silence.

"How long have we been here?" Eight asked. "And how long will it be?"

More silence.

"What's-"

Westria groaned. "Why the hell are we asking questions no one can answer, since we are all in this situation?"

Robyn raised a slow hand. "You just asked a question."

Westria banged her head backwards, hoping to have this all end soon.

-0-

The sights of the Capitol danced in the eyes of our only brown eyed tribute remaining. He actually survived. But something still felt off. Something not right.

He thought about everything that happened. Did he even kill any one? A squirrel, a technical mutt (not even). None of it made sense. Seeing the recaps will actually something he looked kind of forward to.

Robyn... how could Robyn be dead? She was there, then gone. Just gone and now apparently dead. Along with everyone else. Various snarky commenst ran through his brain.

Over the past few days, Robyn has become a real friend. Life in District 10 is all seriousness, at least, his life. Hardwork to get what you want, honest words and hospitalitity for people to like you.

But Robyn...taught him to be a kid. To do stupid stuff, say stupid stuff, have fun. Having her gone hurt Drale slightly. Like losing a friend. His mind wandered to Matt. Drale knew for a fact that if him and Robyn met, they'd get along real well. They were a lot alike in different ways.

Drale shifted on the thin pad of bedding, wanting to so badly to rip off all needles and wires attached to his arms. How could he have survived?

Robyn had plummeted to somewhere. When he started to sink, he just jumped away.

Was he the only one to jump?

Too many flipping questions. Why was he asking so many questions to himself?

Robyn's voices floated through his mind. "That was a question cow head." Yes, yes it was.