Hey, hey, and welcome to my 75 victors fic. I've been wanting to do this for a while now, so I'm super excited to get this started. Obviously, I don't own the Hunger Games, and all of this stuff is just me messing around, so if I do something illegal by accident, please don't sue me. One other thing to mention and I'll only say this once, but there will be MAJOR spoilers for the 40th Hunger Games fic I wrote a few months ago so if you haven't read it, go read it. Seriously, and I'm not just saying this because I wrote it, but it's a really cool story (in my opinion). You have been warned. Without further ado, here's the first victor.

One more thing I'm just adding now, I put song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter. It's an idea I got from QueenofFunerals37 in her 75 victors fic (which was amazing btw 10/10 recommend). I chose the lyrics after writing the chapter so the story isn't entirely based on the song. Each district gets an artist because I enjoy organizing things like that.

Ajax Markinno, District 2

"Now commence to kick each brick apart

To center on your heart."

The Decemberists, A Beginning Song

Today is the day of the Hunger Games. Two days ago, my name was drawn out of a bowl and now I'm supposed to fight to the death against 23 other kids just like me. As if we haven't had enough violence in the last years. I'm standing in the waiting area of the Capitol Coliseum, the place where gladiators would have waited in Ancient Rome. Waited for their deaths. All around me, children either tremble with fear or simply steel their faces for the coming fight. Next to me, Amazon Garrix, my district partner, has an expression of stone on her face. The last thing I expect her to do is stand up and turn to face the other tributes.

"We don't have to do this. We don't have to play their game," she says. "Haven't you all had enough violence? We can just lay down our weapons and refuse to play. They have no power over us."

Her words instill a little confidence in my previously hopeless soul. I can see faces brightening all around. Some around me, the boy from 8 in particular, still look skeptical, though.

"How do you know they won't just kill us all if we won't play?" he shouts up at her. "Kill us just like District 13?"

"We don't. But don't we owe it to the people who died there to try?"

He still looks cold, his arms crossed over his chest. For a second, I wonder if he'll actually kill during the games. But Amazon's face softens. "What's your name?" she asks. After a second, he replies.

"Wyatt. Wyatt Thread."

"Wyatt, I'm going to ask you a question, one that you might not want to answer. And you don't have to. Who did you lose? In the war?"

Wyatt looks shocked, his face a battleground for his cold demeanor and the painful memories that have undoubtedly resurfaced at Amazon's words. But the memories win.

"My whole family. My house was hit by a Capitol firebomb. I was off fighting, and I came home and they were-" He stops, the weight of the memory too painful for him to continue. Amazon takes a deep breath and walks over to him, wrapping him in a hug, mama bear style. He melts into her embrace, his tears soaking her jacket.

"Ssh. It's okay. I'm here. We're all here." After a second, he looks up.

"I'm with you," he says. "I won't fight."

She smiles. "Thank you. You'll be okay."

She hugs him one more time and walks back to her spot in line. The grate separating us from the arena rises, and as one, we all march out into the Coliseum. Cheers from the spoiled Capitolites fill the air, and I can't help but cringe in disgust. What pain have these people known beyond the minor discomfort of missing dessert a couple of times during the war? They don't know what it's like to lose everything and everyone you love. Not like us. Not like me, or Wyatt. But this small act of resistance we have planned might, just maybe, give them a little taste of their own medicine.

Almost as if we have one mind, we walk up to the pile of weapons and form a circle around them. No one moves to touch the cold metal blades. A booming voice fills the arena.

"Let the first annual Hunger Games begin!"

No one moves.

"Let the Games begin!" says the voice again. Still no one moves.

"The Games will begin right now!" the voice announces one more time. Since the arena is still sans death, the announcer apparently gives up. However, the Capitol has not. At the other side of the arena, a squad of peacekeepers marches in. They form a circle around our circle, like some massive donut of death, and aim their rifles at us. Amazon glances at Wyatt and shakes her head. He nods, his face resigned. Still no one moves. Then the peacekeepers open fire.

A dozen tributes drop to the ground, Amazon included. I take a step back, shocked at my still-beating heart. I glance around and see that Wyatt is still alive, too. I sprint over to him and grab his arm.

"Come on!" I say. Around me, the other ten tributes are already starting to fight. At least four bodies are lying in the sand. Wyatt and I sprint away from the fighting, each still happy to be alive.

At the corner of the arena, we both drop to the sand, panting. After a second, Wyatt breaks the silence.

"You're not reconsidering? About fighting?"

I shake my head. "Never. They may be fighting, but I won't."

"Good."

We sit in silence for a second. The fighting at the other end of the arena seems to have died down. I briefly wonder how many are dead, but then realize that I don't want to know.

After a few hours, Wyatt nods off to sleep. Night falls on the arena, but I don't join Wyatt in dreamland. We may not be fighting, but clearly there are others who are. Sure enough, a girl with blood all down her face and a curved sickle in her hand appears out of the gloom. I jump to my feet as she slowly walks up.

"How many are left?" I ask.

"No one. It's just you, me, and him," she responds.

We stand in silence for a second, each sizing up the other.

"Please," she says. "I have a family. A little brother named AJ. I have to see him again. He has no one. Just let me kill him."

Her words steel my resolve. I won't let anyone hurt Wyatt. She jumps at me, her sickle raised, and I throw up my arms to stop her. My palms hit her in the chest, and she crumples to the ground with a sickening crack. I don't have to be an expert to know that the bones jutting out of where her lungs should be are a sure sign that she's not going home to her brother. I turn back to see if Wyatt's okay only to find Wyatt himself staring at me with wide eyes, shocked.

"You killed her. You lied to me," he says, shocked. "You're a killer all along."

I raise my palms in defense. "No, it was an accident. She would have killed us!"

"NO!" he cries. "You're a killer!"

He jumps to his feet and dives for the sickle she dropped. Out of instinct, I grab it before he can take it from her.

"Give it to me," he says in a low, dangerous voice, making me wonder what happened to the poor boy who just missed his family. "Give me the weapon."

I shake my head. "I can't do that. I'm sorry."

"No. You'll kill me if you don't. You will."

"No, I won't."

"YOU WILL!" he shouts, and runs at me. He collides with me, and a spray of red fills my vision. I'm dimly aware of the blade in my hand sliding out of his chest, and his lifeless body crumpling to the ground.

I drop to my knees, shocked at Wyatt's sudden death. I barely notice the peacekeepers escorting me out of the arena. The ride home to Two is a blur. All I can think about is how Wyatt was right. I really am a killer.

There's the first chapter! Ajax got one brief mention in the 40th Hunger Games, so for those of you with really good memories, congrats if you remembered him. Ajax's sanity is definitely not in the best shape after the Games. Accidentally killing Wyatt really did traumatize him, and he's going to be one of the only victors who never mentors.

I pretty much pulled out all the stops for this chapter, so up until Lucy Gray's games (the 10th), the chapters will all be pretty short. A few of them, though, played a pretty big role in 40th Hunger Games so you might remember them.