Peridot Partridge from District 1
Victor of the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games

Luxor pitied her. Because she was a victim of the Hunger Games just as much as everyone else. It was already awful that the government of Panem endorsed children killing each other every year. But training kids from an early age to be killers? That was a whole other level of disgusting.

He watched as Peridot Partridge stepped forward at the reaping: a curvy, seductive blonde with dangerous eyes that warned everyone there was a not-so-sparkly streak in her. It wasn't her fault she was evil, Luxor thought with resentment. She'd been manipulated by the Capitol.

He wondered what kids like Peridot would be like if not for the games: more likely than not, perfectly normal people who would never dream of taking human life. He hated the Capitol more and more every time he thought about it.

Rowan despised her. Burning-hot fury coursed through his veins as he watched Peridot in the training center, flinging knives and arrows across the gym. It was clear she had been training for years, while the other tributes only got three days of practice. How was that fair?

It wasn't. The games weren't meant to be fair. They were meant to be entertaining, and that meant there needed to be some violent killers thrown into the mix. Rowan realized with hatred that some tributes, especially those from the poor districts, stood absolute no chance. In fact, the gamemakers knew it. This was the first year they assigned winning odds to each tribute.

3-1 odds for Peridot. 47-1 odds for the girl from District 12. That was just sick.

Tyrell related to her. He listened to Peridot talk about the pride and honor of the games, and horrible memories spun through his mind. Once, many years ago, Tyrell felt the same way. Like the games were something spectacular, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to change his life.

He hated himself every time he thought of his own games. Over a decade later, the tributes he'd killed without mercy still haunted his dreams. What was he thinking? What sick, twisted ideas had been put into his mind to make him think that the games were a good thing?

Whatever those ideas were, they were here to stay. They lived in Peridot's mind, and they would continue to live in the minds of the career tributes year after year.

Electra got along with her. On interview night, the victors waited backstage with the tributes, helping them get ready for the stage. Electra spent the first few minutes with her own tributes, the pair from District 5. They weren't weak tributes, but they hadn't made much of an impression yet. If they wanted to survive, their interviews had to be memorable.

Before long, Electra found herself talking with the girl from 1, Peridot. Physically and socially, she was magnetically attractive. And despite her horrific mentality, she was such a fun person. The embodiment of charisma. Later on, that would help her establish herself as the leader of the careers.

Peridot had the very first interview that night. She waltzed onto stage in her seductive little skirt, and Electra watched the screen with horrified fascination.

Bluebell admired her. She wore so many colors: purple eye shadow, red lips, a dark-blue choker. The look shouldn't have worked, but it did. It was an engaging swath of color. Bluebell suddenly wished her stylist had dressed her in something similar during her games.

Even more impressive than her outfit was her ability to play a crowd. Peridot made joke after joke in a perfectly calculated way. Bluebell got the distinct impression they weren't seeing her real personality; Peridot was merely playing a character, filling the role that the Capitolites yearned for.

And it was working perfectly. By the end of the night, she was the most popular tribute. She reminded Bluebell of another girl from District 1, a girl she hadn't seen in over a decade. It was an unwelcome comparison, and she tried to force it out of her mind.

Jaguar wrote about her.

Dear Diary,

Interview night just finished. The girl from District 1, Peridot, has taken the cake. And everybody knows it, too, because she was the only tribute people were talking about once the night was over. It's disgusting how prepared she is. Attractive and charismatic, equally flamboyant and thoughtful. She's going to be a deadly tribute.

My own tributes, Mitzi and Coren, did just fine. Their interviews might be replayed a few times, if the careers leave any space in the runtime. Speaking of the careers, they've set up an academy in District 4! Six career tributes!

I wonder if even more districts will join. Imagine a world where every district trains its children for the Hunger Games.

I'll leave it at that.
Jaguar Stratton

Georgio rejected her. Out of sight, out of mind had been his motto ever since he won the games. He struggled every day of his life to forget the time he'd spent in the arena. And he'd had some success with that, because every time he watched his games on TV he found himself actively remembering less and less.

When Peridot walked onto stage on interview night, Georgio squeezed his eyes shut. Looking at the deadly, popular career girl just hurt. Even so, he couldn't block out the sound of her voice: booming and confident and carrying, formulated to reach a full audience.

Georgio had to hand it to her: she knew how to play a crowd. And, as every victor knew, that by itself was half the game.

Citrine respected her, albeit grudgingly. Sure, she was biased. Coming from the same district, she and Peridot both shared similar values: live a life as fantastic as possible, but know your limits.

Peridot Partridge had no limits. The second the gong sounded, she sprinted off her pedestal, careening headfirst into the bloodbath with all the vigor and zeal of a well-trained career. Citrine watched with an odd kind of fascination as Peridot started to cut down the other tributes.

The other careers had to be commended as well. The other District 1 tribute, Gleamton, made three kills in the opening minutes, and he was about to get his fourth when the boy was killed by one of Peridot's arrows.

By the time the bloodbath ended, eleven tributes were dead, including two of the careers. Citrine took a sip of her brandy and sighed. Peridot wasn't a clean fighter, but she had class. That she had to respect.

Canary just watched her with spite. A murderer. That's what Peridot Partridge was. It didn't matter that she was in the games; she'd taken human life and she would have to pay for it. Maybe killing people in the games could earn you a crown and a pretty dress in the Capitol. Maybe it could make you a celebrity. But it's a dark day in heaven when karma comes to bite.

Over the next few days, Peridot and her cronies started to scope out the arena. This year, the arena was a giant cavern system with glowing crystals stretching for incredible distances. It seemed pretty devoid of life until a huge spider mutt killed the girl from 12 at the tail end of Day 3.

Canary turned away from the holographic screen and tried not to cry. What had the world become?

Mags dreamed about her. On the fifth day of the games, Peridot killed the boy from District 4. The boys from 2 and 4 were snoozing together while Peridot stood guard. But Peridot was clearly scheming; the way she glanced back at her sleeping allies made it clear to everyone watching that a deadly plan was forming in her mind.

Five minutes later, Peridot fired an arrow into the boy from 4's chest, killing him instantly. The boy from 2 woke with a start, but Peridot was already gone. The boy from 2 was named Plutus, by the way. But the viewers didn't really care. They only cared about Peridot, the flashy career girl who kept gracing the screen with her kills and thrills.

That night, Mags dreamed she was the boy from 4. She was lying down, unable to move or scream as Peridot approached her with hands full of deadly weapons. Peridot fired an arrow into her chest, and right when she should have died she woke up in a cold sweat.

Lumen wondered if she even bled. As Peridot raced across the skin, killing and maiming and backstabbing, Lumen was disgusted to be the same species as her. In all his years on the streets, he'd never seen someone act so violently. And that was really, really saying something.

By the time the first week of the games was over, only eight tributes were left. Neither of the tributes from District 3 were among them. Of course they weren't. They had a huge disadvantage from the very start.

Two tributes died the next day: the boy from 7 was killed in combat and the girl from 8 was killed by the huge spiders. Now it was time for the grand finale.

Willow commended her. As sick as it sounds, he couldn't help but gape in awe at the girl named Peridot Partridge. Standing out in the crowd of 24 tributes was a difficult task in the first place, but Peridot had managed all that and more. She had the crowd in the palm of her hand. She'd been the leader of the career pack, the leader of the screen, the leader of the entire arena.

How did she do it? Was she really that impressive, or was this all just politics? What if the academy in District 1 had paid for their tribute to win the games? Now Willow was thinking just like Ebony. She'd always been the cynical one, but now Willow was entering a similar mindset.

The eighteenth annual Hunger Games were over before they even started. Of course, Peridot killed each of the remaining tributes with no difficulty at all. A hole opened in the cave ceiling, revealing the hovercraft. Peridot squinted, blinded by the bright light after so long in the dark cavern. Willow squinted too, his mind racing with questions. How had she done it? How?

Ebony shunned her. Even though they were both victors, Ebony would never treat Peridot as an equal. Nothing could make her. She treated Peridot like an inferior species, a member of a violent race far below her own.

But was that really true? Ebony had killed tributes too. But that was only because the gamemakers forced her to! Not because she was a murderous girl! But, as Peridot dazzled the screens again and again, the horrifying realization crossed her mind that maybe the two of them weren't so different after all.

For the rest of her life, Ebony hated visiting District 1. She hated visiting all three career districts, but the mountainous land of luxury goods quickly became her least favorite place in the entire country. Those people were murderers. She didn't belong there.

Ripple feared her. Every time he saw her, his mind was flooded with questions. Who was she? Why was she so mean? Why wasn't she sad when she killed people, like the other tributes?

Over the last two years, Ripple had partially forgotten about Marina Krill. During his life as a victor, he was so utterly swamped with love and attention that the girl named Marina slowly faded from his mind. Even so, he could never forget her completely. The way she smiled, the way she was kind and caring and loving. Those kinds of memories cannot be erased.

Marina was always sad when she killed people, but Peridot wasn't. Why not? Maybe her heart wasn't working properly. Maybe it'd been broken a long time ago and never learned to be kind again.

There was so much Ripple Hart was blissfully unaware of.

Izzy cursed her. In the outlying districts, everyone cursed the careers: the tributes who'd been trained to kill. They were the reason District 9's tributes always died in the first ten minutes. It was Peridot's fault that seven tributes would never see the light of day again.

But it wasn't really her fault. It was the Capitol's fault. Even though the districts were alien to one another, they bonded over their mutual hatred of Panem's government. Her long-lost family and friends in District 13 probably felt the same way, Izzy thought.

But that idea was just a fantasy. District 13, with its underground complex and giant nuclear arsenal, was perfectly happy staying solitary. No way would they help as kids from the other districts were slaughtered in the arena year after year.

Of course, District 13 would not stay dormant forever. But Izzy didn't know that. All she knew, and all Panem knew, was that the Capitol was evil. And mutual hatred is the foundation of all armed conflict. What would come of this was for time to tell…

List of Victors

District 1 (3 Victors): Luxor Dodge (1st), Citrine Whitacre (9th), Peridot Partridge (18th)

District 2 (3 Victors): Tyrell Crowley (3rd), Lancaster Percy (6th), Ajax Mathers (15th)

District 3 (1 Victor): Lumen Orlaith (12th)

District 4 (2 Victors): Mags Flanagan (11th), Ripple Hart (16th)

District 5 (1 Victor): Electra Wilty (4th)

District 6 (1 Victor): Jaguar Stratton (7th)

District 7 (3 Victors): Rowan Dobson (2nd), Willow Merrick (13th), Ebony Merrick (14th)

District 8 (1 Victor): Georgio Bronte (8th)

District 9 (1 Victor): Izzy Mayfleet (17th)

District 10 (0 Victors):

District 11 (1 Victor): Bluebell Singer (5th)

District 12 (1 Victor): Canary Roselock (10th)