Bright.

So bright.

Magellan Blough, District 4's first ever male tribute, could barely make out the other tributes as he was raised into the gladiatorial coliseum that would serve as the arena for Panem's first national hunger games. Squinting into the sun, the tall and hale sixteen year old from the fisher district surveyed the arena.

In the stands were throngs of Capitolites, cheering as the district sacrifices rose into the arena. He noted that those just behind him were taking bets - 50 sesterces that District Two wipes the floor with their competition. A drink that the weeping 12 year old from Seven is cut down first.

They reminded the boy of something he'd had a fair deal of experience with.

Sharks. Surveying their prey, picking out the weakest links, and sinking their metaphorical teeth in when they found something they liked. Magellan smirked at this mental comparison. It was quite an apt one, if he did say so himself.

Moving on from those in the stands, Magellan surveyed his competition. Those he believed could pose a challenge. The two beauties from One were currently crying their perfect eyes out. The male from two had a look of grim determination on his face, his jaw set in a way that had Magellan take note. Nobody else caught his eye except the girl from 10, who appeared well built and held more muscle than some of her male competitors. Still, it was clear; if Magellan was to become this nation's first victor, the one to take out would be District Two.

"Tributes, may I have your attention." A strong voice spoke from a roped off section of the stands, carrying across the coliseum as the eyes of both spectator and tribute were drawn to the sound.

"Welcome. To the first Annual Hunger Games." The stands erupted into a thunderous applause, which only caused the shivering children in the arena to sob louder. President Crius was speaking.

"We are here… as a reminder. A reminder that even in the face of grievous rebellion, the strong arm of the Capitol will prevail. We offered peace. You rejected it. Now, the districts will reap what they have sown. From this day on. Once, annually on the Twenty - Ninth of May, 24 district citizens of the ages twelve to eighteen will be selected. Twenty three will die in an arena, just like this one. One will emerge as the victor. A reminder that there is redemption even for the most heinous crimes. Glory to the Capitol. Glory to Panem!"

The cheering of the crowd grew so loud that many, Magellan included, had to cover their ears as the citizens were whipped into a frenzy by the President's words. If he had to give the man one thing, he was a brilliant speaker. As the cheering died down, Magellan noticed a cold, robotic voice counting down. It appeared the others heard it as well, eyes growing wide and bodies tensing.

Forty five. Forty Four. Forty Three.

"Magellan… Oh, my sweet boy.." An aging woman whispered as she held her son close, militaristic men in dress whites standing by as she did so.

"Do you have to go..? I'm sure… if you ran. If we ran. It would all be okay. We could-"

The soft whisper of a voice was cut off by the sound of a fist hitting the wall of the small room they were enclosed in.

Twenty four. Twenty Three. Twenty Two.

"Are you crazy, woman?" An angry voice hissed. Magellan's father. "This is what happens to rebels. These district dwellers have reaped what they've damn sown." The man spit onto the floor, shoving his wife out of the way to stare deep into his son's eyes. "Magellan. Listen to your old man. You're loyal. You're strong. You're smart. You're a loyalist officer's son. This is meant to be a show of the Capitol's power. They need their victor, and it can't be any of those damned crafty fish-bred whelps in the outlying districts. Hell, it can't even be your own partner. That bitch and her family were rebels, too. You win this damn game, son, and give them a victor they can be proud of."

Five. Four. Three…

A self assured smirk, and a nod.

"That was always the plan, pops."

The gong sounds. Nothing happens for a few, quick moments. Despite his memories. His talks with his father, his loyalty to the Capitol and his desire to win, Magellan's stomach dropped to his knees and he felt bile rising in his throat. The games were really starting.

A maddening shriek. The boy from 3, in a fit of madness or perhaps stupid bravery, leapt from his pedestal and charged headlong into the center of the arena, where countless old weapons were piled. This one action. One child taking his fate into his own hands would be what set almost eighty years of torture into motion.

Alongside the now delirious boy from the tech district, it seemed the majority of the tributes were opting to get their hands on a weapon. Only the girl from Seven and the pair from Eleven elected to run away, as the rest made the frantic dash towards the deadly collection of steel in the center of the arena.

Magellan was the third to arrive, grabbing a spear for himself. The fisher boy knew the weapon and welcomed the familiar length.. He'd speared many a catch before. Would a tribute be so different?

He didn't have to wait long to find out, as the brave yet possibly very stupid boy from Nine charged him with a sickle. Magellan didn't even have to expend any effort as the spear found its way into the boy's stomach and sent him to the floor. A pistol sounded in the background, but nobody seemed to notice.

A flicker of movement. Magellan leapt sideways, dodging a would - be death blow delivered by the boy from Seven and his hatchet. His arm was now opened up, bleeding, but still moveable. He dodged another strike, spear point subsequently driving into the throat of the lumberjack male. Two down.

The rest of the games sort of blended together. A couple more kills, bringing up Magellan's total to 6. By the end, there were only three left. The three he'd pegged from the beginning. The massive male from Two, himself, and the dark, muscular woman from the livestock district.

"Hey, Two." The woman's voice, hard and strong, caught the man's attention. "Ever played catch before?"

While the large male pondered this question, the girl withdrew two small knives in a flash and sent them spinning towards the quarry boy. Caught off guard, he raised his weapon. One was deflected. The other found its mark, right in the eye. The boy from two collapsed, screaming in pain. For all his muscle, a measly knife would be how he met his end.

The woman from Ten now turned to Magellan.

"One down. Since it's just us, though, I'd like to know the name of my runner up."

Despite being more than a bit nervous, the district Four male mustered a confident response.

"Magellan Blough. Loyalist, and future Victor."

"B-Blough..?" The girl's eyes twitched, her body tensing.

"You.. you're the son of that rat BASTARD?!" With speed that shouldn't be possible from someone as muscular as she, the livestock girl bolted towards Magellan with a deadly, crazed look in her eye.

"I hope he's watching this right now. It'll feel good to stick you like he stuck my friends. My brothers. My lover." The girl's voice hardened on the last word, and she withdrew a cruel cleaver knife from somewhere unseen. Blow after blow rained down, vicious strikes and chops that would have taken out most anyone.

But Magellan Blough was not just anyone. Trained with a spear from the beginnings of the dark days, he knew his way around a weapon, and his father had drilled it into him. He wouldn't lose. Not here, and certainly not to her.

As she reared up for another vicious strike, Magellan's spear suddenly lunged outwards, almost like the bite of a snake. One arm carried it out, allowing his range to be extended, while his body pivoted to the side, allowing the cleaver to pass just a hair's breadth from his body. His weapon found his mark. Hers did not. The girl collapsed forward onto the point of the spear, letting out a choking noise as the life rapidly drained out of her.

"Loyalist… bastard…" She muttered, collapsing to the floor, grasping for her knife which Magellan kicked away.

"I simply picked the winning team. Look on the bright side…" Magellan readied his spear at the girl's temple as she struggled in vain to now crawl away.

"You'll be with your lover once more. Rest in peace."

With one final thrust of the arms, Magellan Blough had won the Hunger Games.