Brooklyn Kelly, 22

District 4, Victor of the 100th Hunger Games

"Ms. Kelly," a Peacekeeper greats me at the door of District Four's best training center. "It's good to see you again."

I smile and trying to keep my voice even. "Of course, I should get started on watching the tributes for next years Games after all."

The peacekeeper looks slightly taken aback. "Yes, you're right," he says. "Although, I must admit that I am most surprised to see you only a month after this years' Games. Considering what happened after..." he trails off.

I bite my lip as I remember the reaction I had to my tributes dying last year, for the third year in a row. It was horrible, I didn't speak for days after and didn't leave my house, my real house back in the village, for weeks. Even this year the deaths of both tributes hit me hard. Death has always been a hard thing for me to handle...

I'm spared from having to answer when a familiar face pops out from inside. It's Adriana Flanagan, my mentor and only real friend. She's the reason I'm here, at the place that I so desperately try and avoid. She basically forced me to come and it probably didn't help that Brian, my little brother, kept taking her side over mine.

"Brooklyn," she grins before grabbing my hand and pulling me inside. "I'm so glad you came."

"I don't know," I say uncertainly. "What if I..."

"You'll be fine." Even though she is only 10 years older than me, she seems much more mature. Now, to me, she is almost like a mother and a wise friend combined.

We walk to the main part of the training center where I see some of the other Victors lounging around. I see two of them, whose names I've never bothered to learn, scribbling notes on a clipboard. Of course. They must be thinking of who next years' tributes should be.

Adriana pulls me to where the Victors are supposed to sit and I pull back.

Just the sight of so many weapons makes my heart seem to race and I almost lose my breath. "Adriana," I'm surprised at the desperation crawling into my voice. She doesn't seem as surprised as I am but gives me a concerned look. "Please Adriana, I don't know if I can do this."

She smiles sadly, "Just try, I'll be right here with you."

I take a shaky breath, "Okay."

We sit down and I turn to watch our academy's best tributes training at their preferred stations.

It's hard to watch, so hard to watch. All the clashing of metal and shouts of fighting threaten to send me into a spiral of anxiety and flashbacks. I almost laugh bitterly when I remember that I used to be just like these kids. Fearless and determined to win the Games. I didn't worship them like the rest of district four but my dad wanted me to become a tribute and so I did.

I watch as two teenagers spar with the retractable knives. Of course, we do have real knives but most trainees prefer the retractable ones for normal practice. They aren't fully harmless anyway, even the retractable ones, if pushed hard enough, will draw blood.

The girl jabs the knife in the boy's direction. He drops to the ground before flipping backwards. He lands in a crouch, three knives that were scattered around the floor now dangle from his fingers. I'm impressed, he has skill.

The girl lets out what I make out as an irritated growl. She lunges forwards and pushes the boy back, he over-balances and drops a knife. He sends the remaining two at the girl who ducks before kicking him in the stomach.

I wince at the shout he lets out and Adriana grabs my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. I'm about to turn away when the room starts to spin. Suddenly, there isn't enough air and I start to gasp. My hands crawl at my chest. I have to get out of here.

I try to run but Adriana has a tight grip on me and I end up on the floor, on my hands and knees. By now, all the tributes have stopped sparing and are looking at me. Even the other Victors are watching me. Some roll their eyes, they must be used to this happening, but others look concerned with sympathy in their eyes.

Adriana drops to the floor beside me. "Brooklyn, look at me." I can barely make her words out.

I shrink back, resisting the urge to cover my ears. Everything is loud, too loud.

I look at Adriana who relaxes her grip on me. Before she can stop me, I yank back and rise to my feet. I run for the exit.

"Brooklyn!" I hear her shout.

I don't stop, I can't stop. I keep running and somehow I end up in an old alleyway. Good, no one can find me here.

I gasp and choke back on a sob. Outside the alleyway, walking in the streets, I see a group of people walking. I know them. They are the ones who lost their children in the last Games. The ones I couldn't save.

Tears fall from my eyes without my consent as I think about those two families. Their poor children, dead, a victim of the Games that I now know are so utterly destructive. The two trained tributes, Daya and Brishon, were both 18; the same age I was when I won my Games. They were just like I was, trained, skilled, strong, devoted to the Games. Only I'm here, alive, and they're not.

I sob, it's so unfair.

My mind moves to my own Games, the same thing it always does when I get like this.

I hear President Courtenay's voice it my head, swirling around, never to be forgotten.

To remind the districts that the rich and strong lost the most soldiers in the war, the number of tributes per district will be decided by the number of Victors.

District 4 had 15 victors by the 100th Games, the most amount of Victors for a district, second to only District 1. Of course, with so many tributes, we had many volunteers. I was one of them. My dad thought that winning the Games was the world's highest honor. Being 18, he was sure that I would bring honor to the family name. After mom died I guess he didn't care if I died as well. So, I became a tribute, leaving my then six year old brother, Brian, behind. With so many tributes, I was easily forgotten, the only person who took any interest in me was Adriana who thought I had what it took. If I had known then the horrors of winning the Games, I would have been the first to step off my pedestal before the time was up.

The Games were far from normal. The Career pack was huge, there were at least 45 tributes for sure. However, ten of them died in the bloodbath and many others died from poisonous bugs and berries. When there were about 15 careers left, there was a huge fight. Me and a by from District 1, Velvet, ran off together. We spent the rest of the Games hiding away and killing a few of the weaker tributes. And of course, as dumb people do, we fell in love.

My stomach twists painfully as I remember the moment we realized that we were the last two left. He grabbed my knife from my hand and before I could stop him, he stabbed himself in the stomach. I cried as he died in my arms. He wanted me to win, he died for me. I was about to use his knife to stab myself when I fell unconscious, courtesy of dehydration and exhaustion. I hated the Capitol for taking him away from me. I thought that I hated them most in the world. But when Courtenay asked me to do that disgusting task and then killed my dad when I refused, I hated the Capitol more than ever before. Now, every time I go to the Capitol, I have to do that horrible task, I need to keep Brian alive. he's the only person I have left in this world. Thank the lord that he is only ten, too young for next years' Games.

"Brooklyn?"

It's Adriana. I shrink back into the dark shadows of the alleyway. I can't face her, not now. She thought I was getting better, that I had recovered from my Games. But I haven't.

"Brooklyn," she kneels beside me. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I lie. "Sorry for running out."

She smiles sadly and I know she is hiding something.

"What is it?" I say harshly before she can speak.

She pauses before saying, "You're mentoring this year. Courtenay specifically sent us a message that you had to mentor. Oh Brooklyn, I'm so sorry."

I bite my lip, forcing myself not to cry. I need to be strong. "It's alright," I mutter. "I knew that would happen anyway."

She looks concerned. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes." It's probably one of the biggest lies I say.

Claus Stilton, 59

Head Gamemaker

Ah, young Orton. That man is full of bright ideas, I think to myself as I drum my fingers across my wooden desk. Mahogany this is. Orton got me it for my 59th birthday, which was only recently, and he told me that he thinks we make a great team. I think when he grows older, and wiser, maybe then he could even take my place as Head Gamemaker. But only then.

Orton is a fantastic arena builder but sometimes he relishes the prospect of concocting mutts that would rip you apart from limb to limb a little to much to the point where I think that I don't want him near me for a while as he seems just an inch to bloodthirsty and power-hungry.

However, I have learnt a lot from his presence and his mutts are downright the best (even if sometimes they are a little too gruesome in my eyes). There are times I think he thinks he could be a more effective Head Gamemaker, and at those points I have to remind him of the vicious, bloody pit of an arena that I made five years ago.

That arena was called 'the best arena in the history of Panem' by the President herself, and I'm completely sure nobody will ever be able to make an arena quite like that again.

Even now, when I'm walking the streets of the Capitol (of course I'm with my bodyguards) people stop me and compliment me on the fantastic job I did. I am told the work that I did was, to say the least, exemplary, and that the privilege of Head Gamemaker was rightly awarded to me.

I am worried that soon, however, Orton's ideas will become better, brighter, bigger than mine, and that I will be bstripped of my title. Despite the fact that I like Orton, I would not be happy if the title that is rightly mine is taken from me.

"Claus?" I hear the lilting voice of my secretary, Darlia Milt,

"Orton is hear to see you."

Darlia Milt, 30, Secretary to Claus Stilton

Once she had finished her many assorted jobs for the idiot that was Claus Stilton, (honestly, she had a life to!) Darlia headed home for the night.

As it was getting closer to the 105th Games, she knew she would have bucketloads of work to do tomorrow, plus a gargantuan stack of documents and legal papers to sign.

Although she was on good pay, Darlia always dreamt of a better employer and a better life for her family. She imagined herself diving into glistening swimming pools, the suns rays bouncing off the water. She imagined every luxury in life and more- and the best thing? Soon, this would all be coming to her. All she needed to do was keep her mouth shut (which was obviously easy for a woman like Darlia) and get that wretched Stilton who she despised so much, in the right place, at the right time.

She smiled to herself. Soon she was going to be on the lap of luxury.

Now, It's time for chapter 2 authors intros, featuring: Rose (ReadBooksWriteThings) StarwatchingDragon and Carrot Lord.

Hi everyone, I'm Rose. I hope you enjoyed my part of the prologue. I'm so excited to be doing this collab with these four talented writers :) I will be writing the D4F, D6M, D7M, D9F, and D12F. If you enjoyed my writing, feel free to submit your tribute to one of those five spots. A little fun fact about me is that this is my first ever syot and my first ever collab. So PoL is a lot of firsts for me. I'm writing a normal Hunger Games story (about the second quell) and I started a crossover but I've never done a syot so I am very excited. Hope you enjoy our story! -Rose (ReadBooksWriteThings)

Hey I'm Carrot Lord, I'm writing the D1M, D5M, D6F, D8F, and the D10M. Along with writing my part of this fanfic, I'm also writing in another collab. I hope you enjoy reading PoL, Carrot

Alright, that's it for chapter 2. Submissions are still open, and will be for awhile longer so get your submissions in! Link is on my profile, or you can contact me on Discord for the link.

-Times