Hello, hello again, peoples! I am still Lord Zagreus, here to announce the tributes of District 6! Woohoooo! I have about a zillion excuses for my absence, and at least half of them are true.

But first, let's give a round of applause to our reviewers, for District 5!

Nightmares Are Dreams Too: I'm glad I did such a good job with Dev, I think she deserves it. Honestly, I think she could go far, if the Capitol (Fanfiction) loves her enough.

dreams and desperation: It was rather ironic, wasn't it? I didn't even mean for Dev and Darius to have bad history with the same man, yet, here we are. You say you'd kill, but I'd get to you first.

MushtcheNinja29: Thanks! Glad to hear from you.

ElvenRangerRysel: If you'd like me to kill one of your tributes for Devon, go ahead. All I ask is that you PM it to me, and don't get mad if I don't do it.

grimbutnotalways: So glad to hear from you, it's been awhile! (Then again, I haven't been heard from in 2 months, but, y'know…)

I don't own the Hunger Games franchise. I am simply a fan of it, writing fiction about it, hence the site name, "FanFiction." Whoever came up with this site is a genius.

I have a zillion excuses for my absence, only half of which are true. The whole story is in the Author's note, which, whether you want to hear it or not, needs to be read.

Again, please read the author's note at the end of the chapter, it's kind of important.

Thanks to ElvenRangerRysel and HufflePuffleJay for Aran and Jetta.

Jetta Carter, Age 17, District 6

The slight breeze outside of District Six whistled over the tracks leading from Forter's Station to the Capitol and Districts Five and Seven. It was the morning of the Reaping, and I really didn't care.

Don't get me wrong, I was nervous about the Reaping, like everybody else. It always hangs over the District, as, out of 298 kids, only seven ever came out of the Arena alive.

Don't ask me why, but on the morning of the Reapings for the 6th Quarter Quell, I was nervous, and decided to inspect the tracks, to calm my nerves.

Maybe it was because I was within the small age group that was eligible. Maybe it was because I had decided to take out tesserae. Or, maybe, it was because I had been caught giving away food. By a Peacekeeper.

I come from a wealthy merchant family. (You know, compared to most in Six.) From a very young age, I began to feel bad for the people of the Districts. I saw someone murdered for the little bread they had. I saw people flogged to the verge of death because they were too weak to work. Heck, someone from Forter's was mugged and jailed the night before the Reapings!

I saw all this, and hated myself. I hated the full plate of food I got three times a day. I hated the dress that I was forced to wear every Reaping, whether I was in it or not, like the white, thin-strapped dress I seemed to wear every year. I suspected my mother got me a new set each year to fit my tall, now 5'11", and thin frame.

In all this, I began giving away most of the food I ever received when I turned five. The locals were grateful, which made me feel good. The Peacekeepers were suspicious, but I always claimed that they had helped me repair rails. I always got away with it.

Mostly anyway.

But more on that later. The morning of the Reaping, I was half-heartedly inspecting the length of track, but mostly staring at the countryside that most people in Panem would never see. The animals were graceful, the plant life elegant. It was by a miracle I heard the train coming.

It started as a slight hum over the steel tracks, barely noticeable. However, it quickly increased in bravado, and I barely had time to leap out of the way before a flash of silver flew by in a roar of energy and grace. Spinning around, I hurried back to the station, where the escort had probably already arrived.

The station was deserted, except for my friend Trax Ellis and his little sister Cargo, who were playing around while sweeping the upper platform. An overhead T.V. was showing the Recaps of Five's Reapings. Hypnos and Mako were attempting to determine which tribute would live longer.

"Jetta!" Little Cargo called when she saw me. At only eight, she was much smaller than me, but I nearly fell over when she ran into me with the largest hug she could muster. "Where were you?"

"I was just checking the track. Where is everybody?" I asked.

"At the Reaping." Trax answered in his smooth, deep voice. "We were waiting for you! Karat has been here for ten minutes! She's probably about to Reap the tributes! Come on!" He rushed forward, grabbed my arm, and hauled me down the stairs.

Trax was strong, and we practically flew to the District Square. By practically, I should say literally. I was like a scarf in the wind behind the twenty-year-old man. It was a miracle Cargo managed to keep up.

In what felt like a few short minutes, we finally made it to the square, where our new escort, who had just "upgraded" from Seven, was up on stage, giving a speech about glory and courage. Trax shoved me to the Peacekeeper with the DNA tester, and disappeared. I got signed in, and found my way to the seventeen-year-old section. I tried to push my way through, but only received a few glares from my peers. I had just taken notice of the fact that the twelve-fifteen year olds were still lined up when Fuschia's voice rang out.

"And now, the female tribute from the, err… glorious District Six!"

Aran Quade, Age 17, District 6

I sat in the corner of the cell, listening to the water drip into the puddle in the center, dominating the already small room. "It's not my fault." I mumbled, "I need to feed my sister."

"I feel you." A voice said from the other side of the cement wall, which probably led to another cell. "Didn't mean to kill that guy either, but here I am."

I shook my head. "No, I-"

"Talking to yourself, eh, uh… Quade?" A deep voice came from another wall, where a door groaned open. "Happened to you faster than most others, I'd say. Well? C'mon, boy. You're of Reaping age, right?" He groaned in frustration when I didn't get up. Glaring, he stepped across the concrete floor and grabbed my arm roughly, jerking me to my feet. Growling, he led me to the door.

"You are going to be "released" for the Reaping today." The Peacekeeper said, "You will be accompanied by three armed guards. After the Reapings, you will be kept in the Crossway to be publicly whipped. You will not try to run, on penalty of being shot. Capisce?" I nodded, honestly more scared then I was letting on.

What went wrong? I thought.

During the 141st Games, my mother, Amaya, gave birth to my little sister, Reyna. As a result, she died, and, a few days later, my father, Luis, was arrested for attacking an abusive Capitolite with a suitcase. Thus, leaving me and Reyna to fend for ourselves.

The following nine years weren't so bad, other than the fact that we had to do everything we could to get a little food. We still had the old house, thankfully, and therefore a roof and beds. I took out tesserae whenever I had to, and worked at the nearest train station.

Which leads me to why I was in jail.

The night before the Reaping, I was on my way home from my late-night shift at Forter's Station. I was almost home, only in the Crossway, when a figure approached me out of the dark, a bright mask over his face. Without any kind of warning, he jumped me, throwing his fists at my face and stomach. As my vision faded, I saw the thief grab my money and the little bread I had in my satchel, and bolt.

When I woke up, my only friends, Burt and Squirt, were staring down at me, worried looks on their faces. The redheaded, 19-year-old twins looked ridiculous most of the time, whether they were working at the train station or hanging out in the street.

"You okay?" Squirt asked in a slightly high-pitched voice. I raised my head, and groaned.

"You don't look so good." Burt stated. "How's about you come back to our place, Ran? We could help your lip, and treat you for a concussion, if you'd like." When I just looked at him, he told me, "You were out like a light for a while, kid."

I reached up to my mouth and quickly pulled back when my index finger grazed my lip, almost screaming. My hand had a lot of blood on it. I looked at the older boys, and almost agreed to go with them. Then I remembered Reyna.

"I can't, guys. Sorry." I didn't even know what I was apologizing for. I just did.

Squirt shook his head. "Nope, you need to come with us, so that we can give you proper medical treatment." I hesitantly shook my head again, slowly standing up.

"I really need to go. Reyna's going to be worried."

"Nope. You're coming with us." Burt's tone was one of finality. He grabbed my arm.

"Fine." I sighed, thinking hard, "But you don't have to hold me!" I then proceeded to walk with them until they weren't paying attention, and took off.

I was still a few blocks from where Rey and I were staying when I came upon the local bakery. Looking at it, I thought of the bread I could have bought with that money, and grew angry. That thief probably already had money, probably spent mine on the bread he didn't even need. Filled with rage, I plucked a loose cobblestone off the ground, and chucked it through the front window, which completely shattered.

Climbing in, I looked around for something to hold the bread in, when my eyes found a basket, woven from the thin stalks of grain, with a large pink bow on top. I snatched it, and proceeded to overflow it with bagels, baguettes, and even a few biscuits.

As I exited through the shattered window, I heard urgent footsteps thundering down the street to the bakery. I ran around the corner, my head pounding, and the footsteps followed. Turning into an alley, I picked a piece of pipe from the ground.

As the Peacekeeper turned into the alleyway, I swung the pipe like a club at his head. He dodged, and in my weakened state I couldn't swing again. He pummeled me, and dragged my near-unconscious form to the Mid-Transport Jail for Minors.

My escort got my finger pricked, signing me in. I glared at him as I was led to my section, where the other boys my age were. From in front of me, I heard, "Good morning, District Six! Another beautiful day for the Reapings, huh? I am Fuschia, your new escort, here to Reap the tributes from this shiny District! But first, a video from our dear Capitol!"

Jetta Carter, Age 17, District 6

Fuschia strode over to the girls' bowls and plucked one slip from each. At the mic, she called out, "Jetta Carter! Come on up, sweetie." Gasps riddled the crowd, followed by hushed whispers, and a couple mournful wails, probably from my parents. I slowly made my way up to the stage, looking to both sides of the aisle at the people I had saved from starvation for years, and I felt proud of myself.

Finally on stage, I looked over the crowd again, a smile on my face. I looked at the possible female tributes, and thought, Better the stupid rich girl than them.

Fuschia ushered me to the microphone, and asked me, "What's with the smile, dear? Anything you want to say to the Capitol?"

I answered with a simple, "I'm really glad it's me going into the Games, and not my fellow girls. The last time a girl from Six won, well," I looked at the mentors. "Spacia won the 121st. That makes almost thirty years. I'm just glad I'm the won suffering the Quell."

I looked at Fuschia, who was beaming. Into the mic, she said, "So good to see a downright patriotic tribute. Now, the boys."

She walked away from me to the boys' bowls. I sat there, dumbstruck, at what she had perceived me to be. Life came back into focus as I heard her call out, "Aran Quade!" Almost instantly, shouting erupted from a group of Peacekeepers near the 17-year-old boys section. A boy in an orange jumpsuit, who I recognized from my father's station, was trying to break away from the men in white. He almost got away, too, when one of his guards took his baton to Aran's stomach, and he doubled over.

The Peacekeepers carried Aran to the stage, and practically threw him over the railing. After a moment, he stood up, and stumbled over to me and Fuschia.

"My, my, what a, er… spirited youth! Welcome to the Games, Aran. Anything you'd like to say to Six?"

The brown haired boy looked at me, and scanned the crowd, as if trying to comprehend it all. His shoulders slumped, and I could have sworn he whispered, "Good bye."

Aran Quade, Age 17, District 6

Of course I'd be chosen for the Games, right? The moment something goes wrong, it just has to get worse and worse, doesn't it?

The Officials in the Capitol probably didn't like my attempt to get away, but their general public probably loved every dramatic moment. I'd already been selected for the Games, what can they do? Then again, there have been stories about the families of disobedient tributes.

The twins will probably get flogged, and Reyna will be forced into a community home, like most other children in the District. They'll be staring intently at the screen, watching the girl from One slit my throat at the Cornucopia, like most Six's. Or maybe I'll survive the bloodbath, and be skinned alive by a two. Or maybe…

The door slowly opened then, and a little head peeked through it. Seeing me, a wave of tears rolled down her delicate nine-year-old face. She held out her arms and sprinted toward me, sobbing. She didn't say anything, so I did.

"Shh. Everything will be alright, Rey." I began slowly stroking her hair. "I can make it back, Rey, you know I can. Six can do it once in a while, why, the Arena may even be like Kiara's, remember that?" She looked up at me with her big, intelligent green eyes. Kiara Enigma was a girl from Six, who won sometime in the Eighties. Her Victory was always on the Top Ten Insane Arenas, with it's endless underground railways, electric boxes, and even a few trains traveling the tracks daily. She won because she knew how to navigate such a place, and ambushed her enemies one by one.

"And what… what i-if its no-ot?" She asked, pulling me into a tighter hug.

"I'll figure it out, Rey, you know it. And when I get back, you and I will live in the Victor's Village! How does that sound?"

She nodded, "You come back, okay?"

"Okay." I answered.

Jetta Carter, Age 17, District 6

I'm going into the Games. I thought miserably. I coughed. With a cold setting in. Again. Maybe it will be a warm Arena, with beautiful forest animals and mermaids. I shook my head. I'm not coming back. I don't have the skills. I've only ever climbed a tree once. My parents give me plenty of food, so I couldn't possibly find my own. Then again, I'm used to eating little…

From the front of the room, by the door, a hesitant voice called, "Jetta, dear?"

I looked up at my mother, Laney. At thirty-five, she has a beautiful face, and the calm eyes of a clever merchant. She smiled lovingly, and held out her arms. I ran into her embrace, and felt a much larger presence from behind. Turning as much as I could, I looked up at the one man in the District who ever made me happy.

Byke Carter never cried. At forty-five, he's watched his baby brother go into the Games, his parents murdered, and, now, his only child called for the Games. He only cried for the latter.

With tears in his eyes, he said, "You can make it home, sweetheart. I will be here, getting you as much food, water, and… other supplies you may need. Everyone at Forter's will be behind you. I'll make their jobs depend on it!" He laughed his hearty laugh, pushing it as far as he could go. He looked down at me. "I know you can do this, Jetty. You are the smartest girl I know, and if anyone can brave the Arena, it's you."

"When you make the Top Eight, there will be family interviews. Who do you want me to ask to join us?" My mother asked.

"Just Trax and Cargo." I answered slowly.

"Are you sure? You don't have any other-"

"Time's up, Mr. and Mrs. Carter." The Peacekeeper called as he opened the door.

"We'll see you when you get home!" My father called to me as they were hauled out.

Railer Playne, Age 59, District 6

After the Reapings fiasco, Fuschia, a cheerful District Seven Loyalist aka lousy Six escort approached me, a Reaping slip in either hand. She smiled, and proclaimed, "Hello, Railer. Guess who's mentoring Jetta?" She raised her voice so high, the glass on the Justice Building must have shook.

"Gee, I don't know!" I faked a confused look. "Who could it possibly be? Danny?"

"Oh, don't be silly! They probably didn't even put his name in the bowl! You don't really want the 3rd Quarter Quell's second death as a mentor for Six, do you? The mere idea!" She snorted. "You are a much better mentor then he'd ever be, yes? You brought home both Kendra and Spacia! Who did Danny bring back, hm? No, you are Jetta's mentor, have fun!"

If that woman doesn't get promoted to a higher District, I'll probably throttle her.

Kiara Enygma, Age 83, District 6

Most of them deserved their deaths, but I still feel guilty about them. Their deaths are on constant replay, making me wonder if the other Victors ever experienced it, and, if so, how they had managed to stay sane.

It's the same order every time. Every moment in high definition. My District partner lying at the mouth of the Cornucopia, a bloody knife in the boy from Nine's hand. I pull out the bow, and the arrow flies through his skull. I throw down the weapon and run, screaming. I'm hiding inside a cabinet in a train car when the Careers find me. I had lost my bow, and they easily taunt the thirteen year-old girl. I grab a pipe as they grab my legs. With their force, the pipe explodes, toxic gasses filling the air, and I escape in the confusion. The faces of the boys from Four and Two show up in the sky that night.

I hide in another train. The little boy from Five crawls through the door, his legs cut off at the knee. I hear laughter from down the track, and the boy looks at me pleadingly. I take the knife from his belt and slit his throat, placing the weapon back in his hand. My humanity gone, I played a game of cat and mouse with the final Career for two days. Armed only with a metal pipe she had thrown at me, I finally beat her to death while she slept. And just like that, I was in the final two.

My eyes opened, and I sat up quickly. Blinded, I shielded my eyes and took in my surrounding. Somebody was yelling, maybe two somebody's a voice came directly to my right, and I swung my arm with speed that surprised me. I held my now stinging arm to my chest, and ran, my young self's legs carrying me. My only thought was, I can't go into the Arena again!

Here are the submitters who are Sponsors thus far:

dreams and desperation: 74

ElvenRangerRysel: 68

Mystical Pine Forest: 62

We're All Okay: 56

Rina-The-Fangirl: 53

Here are the submitters, who have points, but haven't confirmed whether they want to Sponsor or not:

Jotunheim Storm: 59

CreativeAJL: 53

InfiniteDespair: 53

Clis2339: 62

Jayman1919: 53

HufflePuffleJay: 53

faceless eater aka slendergirl: 53

Nightmares Are Dreams Too: 56

MushtcheNinja29: 53

grimbutnotalways: 53

Here are the submitters who have not reviewed (If I don't know you're reading, I may kill your tribute(s). Just saying):

Wolfie McCoy

superepicstarkette1211

If you are on none of these lists, you are probably a non-submitter, and I have not included your name because I haven't seen a review in a while. If you'd like to be on any of these lists, let me know. Remember everyone, your donations can save lives!

Questions!

Favorite character overall?

Favorite Victor?

Favorite tribute?

Of the current tributes, who will win?

Of the current tributes, who do you want to win?

Other notes? (Besides update irregularity)

Now, my absence. I was sick with the stomach flu for a week and a half at the end of January, and, as a result, went back to school failing half my classes. It took me about a month to bounce back, and, when I did, my English papers got lost in the midst of grading, so I had to do them again. Then, track came around, and I was barely home. We had our first meet Thursday, and the school term ended yesterday (Friday.) So, now that my life has calmed a bit, I have total, utter free time until I get the next major project on Monday. All in all, life was stressful and sucked, and this weekend is the promise of a calm sea in the midst of a storm, about to be seen as an illusion.

Ta,

Lord Zagreus