Marked: The 125th Annual Hunger Games

SYOT Open

The 'Second Rebellion' as it was called in canon never happened. The 74th Hunger Games ended as normally as the other Hunger Games' before it - Peeta died of his wounds, and Katniss Everdeen would be crowned the victor from District Twelve normally, no rebellion, no nothing. Another half-century has passed, and time dawns onto the 125th Hunger Games, the Fifth Quarter Quell. Read Part I and Part II for an introduction to the Quarter Quell.

Part I: Cool Grey Skies

A wave of grey-clad men and women streamed down the stairwells. In other parts of the nation, one would've expected chaos, panic, even some death on the way to the bunkers. Not here. Not in District 13. The lines moved at a brisk pace, but an even pace, everyone in lockstep with one another, to the lowest floors of the district. This was just a drill, but any day it could become reality should the Capitol decide to remember them.

The lines were uniform, everyone wearing the attire that was typical of someone from Thirteen - grey uniforms. No one was deemed more important than another. In the midst of it all there was a man, a young man, just twenty-one a few days before. There was no celebration, not even a private one, for Thirteen had never celebrated much of anything. His hair was dark and wavy, his shoulders broad, unlike most from the neglected district. Not one could have picked the advisor to the President out from amongst their midst - for they missed their President altogether, just a few rows back from him.

President Easton was Thirteen through and through. He had lived through some of the worst days of Thirteen, when they were frantically searching for a cure to the infertility that the pox had brought upon them. His father was one of the lead scientists behind the cure, which had saved Thirteen from near-eradication. Many owed their families' lives to them. A middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard, Easton was as regimented as the district itself was.

The sirens blared along the walls as a calm, feminine voice broadcasted overheard the instructions, go to the bunkers. Follow your schedule. Remain in a single file line and in your rows. Remain in the bunker until the drill is over. Lucien flipped his wrist over, looking at the purple ink on it detailing his daily schedule. The drill ran an hour long, taking up 7-8am in the morning. Afterwards, he was supposed to meet the President in his office for a special meeting. The ink was clear: 8:00-8:45am: meeting with President Easton. 9:00am: prepare for mission outset.

He slid his back down the wall, putting his head in his hands. In his entire lifetime, he had rarely gone outside. The area around District Thirteen was patrolled by the Capitol more often than one would hope, and it was simply safer to remain inside their underground fortress. The young man waited in position while the alarms continued to blare. A hundred and twenty-five years had passed since the Dark Days, the last days in which the districts even knew Thirteen existed. Hope was gone. Despair had set in among the population of Thirteen, a sort of hopelessness that their lives would remain this regimented schedule for the entirety of it, as many had before them.

At precisely 7:07am, the doors began to shut. Silence was the only thing that was present in Thirteen at that moment. The soft connection of the doors with the floor was the only interruption for the next fifty minutes. Lucien's hands ran along his grey trousers, feeling the pockets that held nothing. Then, at 8:00 on the dot, the voice came back on, "The drill is complete. Follow your schedule to your next task. Thank you for your cooperation."

The young man got to his feet, returning up through the levels with the rest of Thirteen. The schedules were hard on the children, and through time they had learned to allow more Reflection time for them, time set aside to play or make friends. For years Thirteen had grown accustomed to having no children, and now their numbers were just like those in the other districts. Or, well, as best as Thirteen could extrapolate about the other districts.

Lucien's feet hit the metal stairs one at a time, ascending through the levels as people filed through doors back into the rest of the district. He had no idea what a mission meant for him. Would it be something outside the district, his first time visiting another part of the country? Or would it be something inside Thirteen again, like the last time when he gathered recruits for a secret mission into the districts?

There wasn't much time to wait. The room outside Easton's office was plain, as could be expected of Thirteen. The stone was simple and smooth, the desk where the secretary sat had no extra materials on it, only the computers she used, and one simple stone flower pot. The chairs were uncomfortable and demure, slick steel that made your back ache.

"Ah, Mr. Welch." Waverly smiled as she held up her clipboard, arriving behind him into the waiting area. He had heard of secretaries in other parts of the nation wearing heels and dresses, but Waverly's beauty was covered up by the grey jumpsuit and slacks. Her blonde hair was wound tightly behind her head. "You can go on in, the President has already told me of the meeting on your schedule."

"Thank you," Lucien gave a nod and headed for the door, grabbing the cool handle and pulling it open. The president's office was his second favorite area in all of Thirteen, the only better one being the war room. Both had what Lucien always coveted to see - maps of the other districts, live footage of the outside world. A broad circle table had been set up in the President's office, which was normally filled by all of his advisors. When Lucien entered, the President was seated at the head of it, and only three advisors were sitting along with him - Kessie, Harlow, and Barnes, his three closest advisors.

"Good morning Lucien," President Easton said in his calm voice, gesturing for him to take a seat at the opposite end of the table. "And we are ready to begin, all members are present."

The other three were far older than Lucien himself. Kessie and Barnes were near the President's age, while Harlow had to be in his seventies by that point. All three were all business, just what Easton liked to have at his side. "As you know, the Capitol likes to throw a certain amount of festivities to mark every twenty-five years of the Hunger Games." Kessie said, using a remote to click past examples of the last three - the 50th, 75th, and 100th. Their footage was destroyed prior to the 36th Games, so they had spotty examples of before then.

Lucien listened, his arms folded over his chest as he watched the tributes, all dressed up in their finest for interviews, waving to crowds at the chariot rides, and the inevitable - killing one another in an arena.

"District Thirteen has never had to partake in this sick festival that the Capitol has devised. However, we feel that it is the best target to create a problem for the Capitol." Kessie said. "We have talked amongst the advisors, and the president has deemed some actions out of bounds. Hugo suggested kidnapping some of the tributes at the reaping, but we have determined it an unlikely course of success. We want the districts to get behind us, not be angry that we stole their children. Besides, there is a possibility of district deaths at the hands of Thirteen soldiers. So, we have elected to go a different route."

President Easton rose then, projecting a hologram onto the wall behind him, marking a series of points along what seemed to be a rail line. "Through our intelligence in the Capitol, we have determined that this Quarter Quell is to be different. Eighteen years ago, twenty-four sets of parents were told that their child would be reaped for this Quarter Quell. Here is an image of the card, sent from our most valuable Capitol asset." He clicked a button, and a yellow paper showed up, with crisp, mechanical writing.

On the 125th Anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that every man, woman, and child made a choice to join the rebellion against their benevolent Capitol, the 24 tributes were pre-selected in their infancy. Every parent has had an opportunity to raise them as they chose since then. Your choices led to these Games, to this moment. Now what did they choose?

Lucien had a shiver run down his spine. The Hunger Games were nearly unimaginable for him. The district had only ever seen short clips, besides those that were at the upper echelons. As a kid, he had lived in fear of them, even the little of it he had seen. He was relieved that he wasn't assigned to the Games watching group the previous year, which was entrusted to high-ranking Thirteen operatives to look for any signs of rebellion they could use. Besides that, the general populace only saw what little they decided to show them to remind them of the Capitol's brutality.

To think of the fact that parents had to live with the choice of telling their child, even when they were young, that they would be in the Hunger Games at 18, was hard to think about. Not only to put that pressure on the kids when they were reaped, but the parents, whose choices could lead to the deaths of their kids, or the decline of their mental health. Lucien knew the Capitol well enough too, there were backups in case something went wrong.

"This year could be one of the most even years we've seen in…decades," Barnes said in his gravelly voice, glancing around at the group. "Some of you may remember the 100th Games, the 4th Quarter Quell. A bloody affair. Just like what was common, a girl from District Two won those Games. This is an opportunity that the outer districts haven't had in years."

While most in the districts themselves could probably name Victors going back ten years or more, Lucien only knew the last five's districts, and could hardly place their names. The 120th was won by District Three, the 121st by District One, the 122nd by District Six, the 123rd by District Ten, and the 124th by District Four.

"It is incredibly important to District Thirteen and the rest of Panem that this rebellion begins soon. The districts must be the ones to light the torch. Thirteen cannot lead until a war is begun. Therefore, it is of utmost importance to District Thirteen that we have an operative of our own in the Capitol, close to the tributes and able to speak with past Victors and potential Victors alike. Lucien, you are my most trusted operative on this." President Easton focused on him.

His stomach did a somersault, but his face showed nothing. His blue eyes flickered up to him, a sort of nauseous feeling in his stomach. Finally able to leave 13, but heading straight for the Capitol and potential death. It felt like some cruel irony.

"Don't worry," Kessie patted his shoulder in an awkward way, which was likely meant to be comforting. "We've planned for it, through and through. You will be escorted by a team of men to District Six, two weeks before the Reapings. From there, you will board a train bound for the Capitol, waiting there until our operative can meet with you. She will get you clearance onto a train bound for District Twelve, the district you are now from." She gave a thin-lipped smile. "Your hair and skin was the best mark for Twelve. You are Lucien Walsh, a strapping young man who was rescued from the pits of Twelve by a wealthy Capitol socialite, who desired you, two years ago. That should explain some of the difference in etiquette in the Capitol, and your appearance to boot."

"From there," She continued, the trip outlining in red along the hologram on the wall. "You will continue with her to the Reaping in Twelve. Your task is to get to know as many past Victors and current tributes as you can. See which ones could be converted to Thirteen's cause. Can any of them be persuaded to making a show at the interviews or even in the Games itself?"

His head was spinning, a smooth manilla envelope passed over the table by Harlow. Lucien didn't bother to read it at that time, just grabbing it and placing it in his lap.

"Ah, it's 8:45." Harlow announced as he looked at his watch. "Your things are already packed. Make your way to the lower decks for your debriefing and transportation to Six."

Just like that it was over. His ears felt full, and the envelope in his hand felt like it was on the edge of falling. Lucien said nothing as he passed by Waverly, his eyes scanning the area but not really being able to see anything. Welcome to the Hunger Games, he could imagine in President Urban's voice, Lucien Welch of District Thirteen.

Part II: Reverse Recon

Apollon Fairmark had taken the advice of some quick-witted Capitolite years ago when he was little: "you should be a politician when you get older, that beaming smile will lure anyone into a trap". Unlike most Capitolites, Apollon had rarely ever taken to altering his hair. It's natural honey-blonde sometimes could become more gold with highlights, but only in special circumstances. His skin was a healthy tan, and his pearly white smile could charm the pants off any lady (or man depending on his day).

He had always wanted to be involved with politics, and had gotten in with the current President by way of his friend of quite a few years, Pippy Urban. Pippy was somewhat of an airhead, and had taken to coloring her hair a vibrant orange color - looking most days like a pumpkin. Still, the daughter of the president was a kind girl, and the two had worked together frequently through school. While President Urban was cautious of those he let into his deep inner circle, he would sometimes pick Apollon's brain about certain things. When he had gotten a letter telling him to be at the Presidential Palace at 10:00am that day about a job opportunity, he nearly jumped with excitement.

The sun shone down on the Capitol, like the heavens bestowing it with a smile of sunshine. The streets were cluttered with wealthy men and women bustling about their days, heading for some manicure or massage. Apollon lived in an apartment on his own, a good few blocks from where his sister stayed in an identical one. Vesta had just as much ambition as he did, but lacked the gregariousness of her brother.

He wore a tight shirt and pants of gold, with swirls of a cream color inlaid into the fabric. Apollon's blonde hair was wavy and combed back away from his face. As he saw the domes of the palace rising in the distance, he was reminded of his promise he had made to himself those years ago: one day, you will live there. President of Panem, the most important man in all of the country. Every step he took was to get inside there on a more repeated basis.

Peacekeepers guarded the gates, but stepped aside to let the young man pass. President Urban was a kind enough man to those that were his allies, but he had a fearsome reaction to his enemies. Just a few days ago, he unleashed a bombing on some rebels in Three. After last year's games, he dismissed the Head Gamemaker after the second place tribute, a girl from District Eight, gave the middle finger to the camera just seconds before her death. A week later he was missing and found dead in an alleyway in Two.

Apollon intended to never let anyone down - that way he would get everything he wanted. His tanned arms were bare, with coils of gold around his toned biceps. He had served with the peacekeepers himself for two years, one of high rank in District Four. That had been an idea of the President's as well, aiming to help his young protege climb the ranks as fast as he could.

At the doors of the Presidential Palace, four more peacekeepers awaited. Apollon gave them a nod, and they swung open, revealing the interior. It was as beautiful as he had recalled, with plush red-as-wine carpets, and wallpaper of the most gorgeous design. Glassware sat on tables for luncheons not held yet, and a crystal chandelier hung down from the ceiling. A portrait of President Vasileios Urban hung on the wall, an imposing figure, though aging. With white hair and a chiseled jaw, his small smirk was enough to send advisors scampering away.

"Apollon Fairmark, here to see the President for a meeting at ten." He said to the receptionist at the desk, a hard worker called Roxie. Her hair was a bright blue, and she always seemed to have some sort of ocean design on her dress. A personal preference, perhaps.

"Right this way. He's waiting for you," She pointed to a room off to the right, a sort of common area with sofas, chairs, and ornate rugs lining the floor. Sure enough, Urban was dressed in a fine suit, with two glasses of wine sitting at a table between two plush chairs.

"Ah, Apollon." The President smiled, getting to his feet as he embraced him in a one-armed hug. "Good to see you well after all that nonsense in Eight. I'm glad you were posted in Four for that sake."

Apollon just smiled as he took his seat opposite him, a white chair with gold buttons on the arms. An artifact itself, almost, of President Snow's reign. A fearsome man himself, perhaps more cunning than even Urban. He had died just after the 82nd Games, paving the way for Urban's own reign of over forty years - he had been a young President like Snow, only twenty at the outset.

"A Quarter Quell this year. You're excited?" Urban asked, taking a drink of his red wine. White had been the color of Snow, Urban preferred red. The color of blood, Apollon knew. Gold would be his own color, the opulence and power enshrined in the color made it his own.

"Very much, sir." Apollon replied, seated in his chair. "I can hardly wait for the Reapings and the beginning of this year's Games. It will surely be one to remember."

"Almost certainly my last Quarter Quell," The president set his drink down. "I want to make it one to remember. That is where you come in, my young golden man." He smiled a light smile, his finger circling the glass as if he were thinking what to say. "After last year's hysterics with that bastard from Three, I needed a new Head Gamemaker. There's a legion of other Gamemakers to choose from, all of which came to this same palace to grovel for the position. But time is running out. I need someone I can trust to make these Games a success."

Apollon was getting where he was going at this point, his fingers squeezing his pants between them. He couldn't show outward emotion at the appointment, or else he would seem too eager. "I wouldn't let you down, sir." Apollon's eyes turned to him, serious. "Not in a thousand years."

"Now there's someone I believe," The president raised his glass in a toast. "To Apollon Fairmark, Head Gamemaker of the 125th Hunger Games and Fifth Quarter Quell. May you serve us admirably in this capacity, and you may get several years of Hunger Games' under your belt."

Apollon raised his glass in an answer. Like all of those from the Capitol, he had always loved the Games. He watched each one religiously, even when he had been a Peacekeeper. The victory in Four had been a private delight for him, the 18-year old Sebastian Thames had come from the district where he served. When he had returned on his Victory Tour, he had gotten a special audience with him as well.

"A Quarter Quell," Apollon snapped back to the present, taking a sip of his own sweet red wine, a delicacy from Nine, surely. "May I know what our special twist is this year to work with?"

"Oh you'll like it," Urban grinned, folding his legs in front of him as he relaxed back into his chair. "Eighteen years ago, just before the 107th Games, I tasked peacekeepers with finding twenty-four newly-born children in all of the districts. Their parents were told that these children had been put on a list for the 125th Games, and it was up to them to choose how they let their kids live their lives, but on the day those 125th Games would begin, they would be reaped. There would be no volunteering."

Apollon chuckled, humored and enjoyed the idea itself. It would allow for at least a semi-experienced crowd to work with. "How have they handled it? I'm sure you've kept tabs on them."

"You know me." The President said in return. "Naturally, the parents from One, Two, and Four immediately placed them in training facilities at the youngest age they could. Others didn't tell their kids for years, some when they became teenagers, some will be told this month. Others may have to wait until the Reaping itself. Other parents ensured their children would work harder jobs, become stronger. It's all of our choices that affect who we are, what we do. I'm sure you agree with that."

Apollon nodded. He knew how important it was that this Quarter Quell go off without a hitch. It could be the capstone to Urban's career, and the slingshot for his own. Two of the most important things to him, and he was in charge of them. It was time to get to work.

A/N: Thank you for reading the story! I worked hard to find an idea that I really enjoyed and some potential wrinkles to throw in as well. I hope you enjoyed the first bit there. Below you will find, in order, a summary of the Quell idea, rules, and the form. This will all feature on my profile as well so it is easier to copy and paste for all of you who prefer to do that.

Quell Idea: On the 125th Anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that every man, woman, and child made a choice to join the rebellion against their benevolent Capitol, the 24 tributes were pre-selected in their infancy. Every parent has had an opportunity to raise them as they chose since then. Your choices led to these Games, to this moment. Now what did they choose?

Rules:

Rule 1: All tributes will be 18. There are no exceptions, due to the Quell rule. This could invite some exciting characters.

Rule 2: Don't carbon copy from the books. I don't want a Katniss, Peeta, Finnick, etc. There could be girls good at archery, or a District Four man good with a trident. But the odds that there's a Twelve female good at archery because she likes to hunt with her best friend? Not so good.

Rule 3: Be creative, but be reasonable. I don't want to see someone saying, 'this is the best tribute and most physically fit'. Say something more like, 'he has plenty of muscle mass from years training at the academy.' Being the strongest tribute does not necessarily mean you will win, just as flawed tributes won't automatically lose.

Rule 4: Have fun! I am really looking forward to this story and hope you are too.

Rule 5/Clarification 5: While I did introduce Apollon and Lucien in the prologue, they will not have extensive POVs. Almost all of the POVs will come from the tributes themselves. Just like this - rebellious tributes do not necessarily equal victory. Usually it means death.

Rule 6: For now, only one tribute per person. If you're interested in a mentor or another side character, feel free to reach out to me. It is not necessarily first come first serve, but if your tribute is really well done, I will put it in early before other tributes. You can reserve a slot for three days, after which it will be automatically opened again. So if you reserve today (the 2nd), you have today, tomorrow, and the day after to do it. I will re-open it on the 5th. I hope to get all the tributes by the 10th or 12th, but I don't know how quick this will go. I hope the break helps!

Form:

Name:

District (feel free to put multiple in order of preference in case there is one that gets taken):

Age:

Appearance (try to do a paragraph or at least a few lines):

Personality (don't feel like you have to go overboard, but a couple lines is good):

Backstory (same thing here - five or so lines is great):

Family (be as detailed or not as you wish):

When did their parent (if they did) tell them they were partaking in the Quarter Quell?:

How has their life changed since then?:

Strengths (as many as Weaknesses - minimum of 3):

Weaknesses:

Weapon of Choice (once in the Games):

Predicted Training Score:

Parade Outfit Ideas (any district):

Mentor idea (same gender as tribute, feel free to be as detailed or not as you wish. Some people may submit mentors so it may or may not be used. Could be as bland as age and short appearance description):

Interview Angle:

Plan for the Games (Bloodbath included, overall game plan. Not everyone will do the same. Even if you say you're going to the Bloodbath, doesn't mean death. If you say you're running away, doesn't equal survival):

Allies (yes/no, any district or type of person they would look for):

How they would react to Lucien approaching them:

Likewise for Apollon, Head Gamemaker:

I know the form looks long, but it isn't horrible since some of them can be done really rapidly. Plan to spend most time on backstory and personality, and the rest shakes out pretty easily. Thank you all and good luck with tribute-making!