A/N- Ok, so I was suppose to be writing the reapings, yes, I know, but then this idea came to me. The kids didn't know anything about the games, how would they react to them? I also wanted the first games to be different from the ones we see in the books, kinda like, over the years the games have changed, etc... So I started writing the reapngs and somehow it developed into this. They'll only be three chapters of this then I promise to get to the reapings. Swear on the River Styx. The reapings'll be much shorter than this too, btw.

District 1

Midas Ambertide (17) and Maya Spencer (17)

Midas stood there. Fazed, still. He was in a crowd of bystanders, the announcement had just been made. The Hunger games were happening. A fight to the death would be happening. He'd prayed to whatever God there was that he wouldn't be picked. Hadn't his life given him enough misfortunes as there was. the Hunger games. He gritted his teeth, and people wondered why he hated the Capitol so much.

They'd be sending children, children to fight. For what purpose? To show that they have power. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair in the slightest. he wondered if that meant he'd be picked, they said it'd be random. But the malicious smiles Maya seemed to be sending him every two seconds spoke differently. Knowing her, she'd twist these games around to her favor. He wondered if she'd pick him to go to these games just because of spite. She wasn't that evil, was she?

Maybe so. The rules simple. Twenty-four children, they'd send twenty-four of us. We'd fight to the death, the last-one standing would go on a Victory tour, they'd rub it in everyone's faces how they'd survived. The parents of the other twenty-three children forced to watch. Everyone would be forced to watch. No school, no nothing. Just the Games. there'd be a chariot race, at least that's what they called it. Four tributes would be squished into a chariot, the Capitol showing off their prisoners. Showing the world just how far they'd go. Dressing us up in fancy costumes, trying to make it sound fun and cool. Yeah right, us rebels, we knew the Capitol. They'd be doing this only to show us off, show off their prisoners, flaunt their power, abuse it. Then, the interviews would commence, it was to get to know the tributes. really, Midas assumed it was only to get to know our status, know which people to kill off first. Who to put targets on. telling the other tributes, that's what they would call them, who they should kill first.

From ages twelve to eighteen. It hardly seemed fair. There'd be a reaping, that's what they called the randomized picking. Reapings. You could volunteer if you liked. Why anyone would want to that was beyond him. He'd never hated the Capitol so much. There would also be sponsor gifts, apparently these gifts, they depended on your family. Your family would be the ones paying for it, for example, if you were dirt poor, just don't count on many gifts. capitol citizens could donate to your families, though there was no guarantee that they'd spend it in your favor. Somehow, he felt as if that rule was especially directed towards him. He was just another face in the crowd at the moment. He wondered how his parents would react if he were chosen. Probably wouldn't even give a fuck. He gritted his teeth at that. His fist clenching slightly. The announcements were over, but the crowd had yet to disperse.

It was the mayor who'd given the speech, Maya's father standing beside him. Maya's hazel orbs searching the crowd from the stage above, for me. When she'd spotted me, her malicious grin had sent shivers down my spine. When the Mayor'd said random, she'd winked at me. I'd wanted to strangle her. Wrap my arms around her pristine little neck and choke the life out of her. the thought passed by within a second, immediately I felt regret churning in my rib cage. Great, now I'm thinking like her too. That's just great.

I stood rooted to the ground as the other children and parents left. Maya started making her way off of the stage. I kept my eyes down, I could see the tips of her shoes, but acted as if nothing was going on. As if the single human-being who'd ruined my life wasn't just standing there. Mocking me.

"Hey, Midas. Long time no see." I kept my gaze to the ground, trying not to jump forward and strangle her. Trying not to hurt her, scream at her, kick her, punch her. Instead I stayed immobile, feet planted eyes down. I felt fingers touch my chin, her pristine delicate little fingers. They lifted my gaze to look at her. her hazel eyes were glowing, her smile one of my nightmares. Her hair was blowing slightly, she was gorgeous. Too bad the same didn't apply to her personality. Maya was a monster disguised as a princess.

She was shorter than me by a couple of inches so I still had to keep my gaze down slightly to look her in the eye. "Don't play that game, Midas. Come on, say something." I shook slightly, suppressing everything. She wanted me to react, she wanted me to hurt her, she wanted me to get mad. I wasn't going to give her that satisfaction, because she knew that both the mayor and her father were standing behind her. "I'm sorry, Maya, but I must get going. Things to do. Was nice seeing you again" The bitter tone of voice is clear, I see a slight disappointment in her eyes. Shining hazel orbs, framed by big brown lashes. "Pity, goodbye Midas." I turn away, give her a mocking smile and wave over my shoulder, then keep going. She won't get anything out of me, not one single thing.

I don't care if I go into the Hunger games, I realize, as long as Maya's there besides me. So I can rip out her throat and that thing finally, finally gets what she deserves. In moments likes these, moment where I can think of cold-blooded murder and smile, I know what's she really has changed my life. That she's broken me and corrupted me beyond repair. I know, I know.

District 2

Asher Valentine (17) and Artemis Neverending (18)

Asher was scared, he was more than scared. He was terrified. These games, they weren't humane. He couldn't be picked, he just couldn't. He had so much ahead of him, he-he was gonna be a peacekeeper. He would finally be able to quit his job at the stone quarry. He-he, he couldn't get chosen. He was home now. Laying in bed, thinking of what would happen if he was. Chosen that is. Titus was there too. He was sitting on the edge of Asher's bed, silently thinking as well.

Titus should be more worried than him. Not only did Titus have two sisters, both of age, he also wasn't prepared. At all. He was scrawny and weak. Asher doubted a hilarious personality would be useful. He was pretty fast though, al that running away was good for something after all. Then it would come down to, would he volunteer for Titus?

He continuously told himself he would. Titus was his best friend, he'd do anything for him. But, if it meant his life or Titus, would he make the sacrifice. He definitely like to think so. And if not, did that make him both a bad friend and bad person? Surely not, it would have been either of them, better off not himself. But then he'd tell that part of himself that they were wrong, Asher would do anything for Titus. He would. He must.

He knew that if he was picked he'd have a good chance at winning. Better han Titus at least. He was strong and would most likely be a Capitol favourite. Being a loyalist after all. But wouldn't that make him a target? He hoped not. But he would soon realize that this hope was pretty much just wistful thinking. Of course he'd be a target!

The big strong, burly boy from District two. Training to be a peacekeeper, works in a stone quarry, rich enough, Capitol favourite. He was just worded that wasn't he? So obviously they'd kill him, right?

Maybe they'd be too scared? Yeah right, once they got a load of his personality from those stupid interviews they'd know he didn't have it In him to kill anybody. Much less children years younger than himself. He couldn't. Every time he killed one of them, he'd the of Titus' siblings. There adorable faces, how they practically worshipped Titus and loved him above all else. He couldn't stand killing them, or anyone else killing them either.

He would imagine the parents, the friends the families of these children he would kill and he'd think to himself. Could I really kill any of these kids? He couldn't, he honestly couldn't. And his District partner. He'd most likely know them wouldn't he, he knew everyone, everyone knew everyone. They'd all gone to school together, laughed together played together. For all he knew it it'd be him and one of Titus' sisters going into those games.

The luck of the draw.

Would his parents sponsor him? He liked to hope so. He was the one who'd earned them everything they owned. He was the one who single handedly saved their entire family from poverty. They owed it to him, right? Sponsoring him? He doubted Titus' parents would sponsor him, their son that is. Too poor, between feeding the children, to Titus not having an actual job. They didn't have enough. Add that to the list of reason if Titus was reaped he'd volunteer for him.

"Hey, Titus." His best friend looked up at him, not straying from his position on his back. His brown hair still messy in front of his eyes. Which were rime do red. He'd been crying, Asher realized with a jolt. This shocked him, Titus never cried. Ever.

"Wassup?" He said, the same cheerful voice he always bore. That's when Asher realized he didn't know his friend as well as he'd thought. For how long had Titus cried silently, this kind of covering up wasn't natural. Wasn't some thing you did in the spur of the moment and nailed. No this was practiced and rehersed.

How hadn't he noticed, how hadn't he noticed that Titus wasn't as happy as he put out there. How? He was supposed to be Titus' best friend, yet he didn't even realize anything wrong. Asher didn't pry ough, if Titus wanted to tell him he would. Just like Titus never pried into his business.

"Do you think you could win?" He didn't need to elaborate, Titus would know what he was talking about. He had to. He watched as his best friend nervously ran a hand through his hair before he wrung them together, his hands. "No. Come on, Ash, I think we both know that if either of us were chosen, it'd be you winning that thing." Asher though that he'd never seen his best friend look so serious. Never, not for all the years he'd the boy. Asher looked down. Feeling slightly guilty for the strangest of reasons. So what if He were strong, not his fault.

He'd trained and done everything so that he could keep his family alive. He grew strong and tough in the process. It was survival of the fitness, Asher knew that. The guilt eating him away was irrational, he knew that.

"Asher, this is serious. Look at me." Asher. Titus had said Asher. Not Ash, not Sher, not A-star. Asher. He looked up. "Asher, listen, this is life Ok, things like this happen. The chances of either of us getting chose is so unlikely I doubt it'll happen. Listen, don't worry about it. Eveything'll be fine." He, Asher, nodded and grinned at his best friend.

There were still so many sides, so many secrets within him he doubted He'd live one enough to find them all out.

District 3

Velkan Findlay (17) and Zelda Knightly (16)

Velkan looked up. He didn't know what to think anymore. During the war, he'd always been neutral. Never thinking one side was better than the other. But now, with this new twist the Capitol's put into play, he suddenly felt the urge to rebel. Which was stupid of course, the war was over, rebelling would be pointless and would most likely get him killed. But he couldn't help but wonder if not rebelling had been an opportunity wasted.

Stop. He commanded himself. It was this time of thinking that started the war, got everyone killed. And he could assure himself, that more deaths would be both a waste and futile, for the cause he was dreaming of at the moment. The Hunger Games was inhumane, most had already lost so much. Why sacrifice more? Why should they have to give up more? The war was won, they, the Capitol, had won the war, so why in the world were they punishing them?

They were punishing everyone too. Not just the rebels, the loyalists and neutrals too. Velkan gritted his teeth at the thought. Why? He hadn't done anyone wrong. His family hadn't done anything wrong. The whole reason they remained neutral was because they didn't want to get hurt, nor punished. So why were they being punished abyways. Choosing to become neutral was the logical choice, obviously. No matter the outcome they wouldn't get hurt, be tortured, nothing.

If the rebels won, they'd punish the Capitol. The Capitol won, they'd punish the rebels. The neutrals would remain safe, protected and free. It was basic logic and couldn't fathom how he'd miscalculated. It was the perfect plan. He couldn't even count the number of times he'd run it through his head, testing it, making sure it was faultless, foolproof.

Why punish their own either? He understood it was a desperate mean to show their power, how much of it they had. To spread fear into those who dared challenge or oppose them. But the loyalists knew that, why else would they have sided with the very monsters now sending them off to their deaths. Velkan hoped he were dreaming, he'd wake up and none of this would be real. It was wistful thinking he knew.

He hugged his knees as gently sat on his bed. He felt weightless and insignificant. Long gone was the cheerful boy who'd always been charismatic and smart. He'd always thought being neutral meant the war wouldn't affect him. Turns out it had, he cringed awkwardly. Looking back, his plan had many faults. Many flaws, loopholes. He felt childish by just looking at it.

He wondered how his family had taken it. His uncle didn't seem too shocked, which surprised Velkan. He would have thought the older man would be freaking out just as the rest of them. He wondered if it felt different, to be an adult and hear the announcement. Would it affect them the same way it affected us, the kids? He meant, they weren't the ones being shipped off to die. Were they, no they weren't. He knew it wasn't their fault, but Velkan still couldn't help but feel bitter and alone with his thoughts.

He'd always been called a child of his thoughts, which now seemed ironic and left a bitter taste on his tongue. It would be his thoughts which eventually dragged him to madness wouldn't it. Was this was me felt before they went mad? They felt alone, inclined to talk to themselves and lived off of ther own thoughts. But then again, me who went ad were never quite aware of it, so he couldn't doing so right now. His thoughts though, felt to him muddled, which was a first for the boy.

The ages for these games were horrible, they were disgusting. Twelve, the minimum was twelve. It made him want to barf. They were sending children out to die, children. Adults, he may understand, they'd loved their life, to an would still make him want to hurl, but it was still better than this. Velkan, at the age of twelve, had barely even understood what puberty was. How could this children be expected to go fight to the death, kids twice their size and so much stronger. It made him want to strangle the Capitol. They were sending these kids to die. And for wha purpose? To show they had power, stupid meaningless positions that to him meant nothing.

He couldn't imagine sitting at home, being forced to watch these children be murderred right in front him.

There were elements of the games, that Velkan found fascinating. The interview, for example were genius. They gave the Caoitol any sort of information they desired, they wanted to know you're status, rebel, loyalist, neutral, they'd have it. You friends or family, they'd know it. He doubted he'd be able to lie and get away with it. Maybe he could, he wasn't sure. He'd never been the best at lying but over the years he realized he'd come close to perfecting it.

These games, were a masterpiece. With so many interacted folds and pieces, it made Velkan's plans look silly and childish in comparison. Each set to the games had its own purpose, they were different sure, but at the end of the day, they all equated to one thing. The Capitol gaining strength, the Capitol showing their individual power. The Capiol, in all of this mess, was the only one gaining anything.

It didn't matter who won, Velkan would soon come to realize. They'd just be another pawn in the Capitol's game of chess. They wouldn't be gaining anything, oh no, but the Caoitol would. He, Velkan, understood how inhumane these games were, yes he definitely understood all of that, but he also understood just how genius they were too. How absolutely genius they were to him, at least. Only some sick bastard could come up with something this twisted.

Velkan chuckled darkly to himself, yep, some sick, sick bastard.

District 4

Marrisa Zale (16) and Oliver Seadown (14)

Marrisa fingered her trident. Sat down plop next to her was Troy. Sweet, loving charismatic Troy. They were on the ground, her legs were curled to her chest, his were outstretched in front of the duo. "Troy, do you think we could win? Just the two of us?" She didn't need to specify, he got the memo. She was talking about the games, then again, who wasn't. She felt Troy move beside her, awakwardly shuffling around like he did whe nervous. She felt him tense up before relaxing once more."I think we could. Just the two of us."

She kept playing with her trident, not looking at him, afraid of what she'd find if she did. They could win, they could, couldn't they. All her life, Marrisa had trained. And for what? A war she barely even faught in? It didn't make sense. All her life, all Marrsa had wanted to do was prove herself, show that she was the best, always had been always will be. Her hand twitched to pick up a sword and fight. She turned to Troy. "Wanna spar?"

His brown hair was falling into his sea-green eyes, concealing any emotion he could have been feeling at the moment. He was smiling though, so she wondered if his eyes would tell a different story. "Sure." Marrisa sprang to her feet, grinning cockily at the boy beside her. Troy took longer, using the wall they rested against to oust himself upwards. Marrisa already had her weapon, so she merely waited for Troy.

He walked over to the weapons rack and picked up a long bronzes word, tested the wight before shrugging and standing opposite her.

She grinned wickedly, showing off her teeth and waiting for hi to smile back. It was a small sad smile, she looked to see his eyes, but noticed they were stil obscured from her vision. She honestly felt like pouting, just to see if that'd make him laugh, maybe shake some of that baggy hair from his eyes. That's when she realized he definitely needed a haircut. And soon.

"Ready, Troy?" She said, swinging her trident from hand to hand, smirking once the rptrick was deemed successful by herself. "I was born ready, Zale" He flashed her a grin of his own and she caught a glimpse of sea-green. She made some lame joke about the Hunger Games and saw him stiffen. His sword seemed to dance as he spoke. "No time for jokes, Zale." She pushed her own black hair out of her face, or at least she pushed the strand which had fallen out of her ponytail out of her face.

They circled each other. It always went like this, she'd attack first. They both knew it, it was just a matter of time. She watched him, as he moved, there was something off about him today. She knew it. They carried on for a few more minutes. She watched as he lowered his sword arm probably to rest it,and in that sedcond she charged. She watched as he clumsily aimed to block it, just barely succeeding before she went in again.

The sword was unbalanced in his hand, she soon realized. That's what you get for not taking more time in picking a actually balanced sword. She couldn't help the cocky smirk that soon etched itself onto her face.

They slashed and parried, he blocked, she hit. Sometimes the order would reverse, him attacking her defending. She watched as he tried to get a hit in, he left his left side wide open, she quickly went for it, but he was quick. He saw what she was dong and quickly changed tactics, forgetting about the blow he would have applied and instead defended. "What, getting tired, Troy?"

She saw his face lit up in anger, which definitely threw her slightly off game. It was just a friendly taunt, they said them all the time to one another. He charged in, she blocked. "How'll you ever win the Hunger Games if you fight like that?" She let the words fly out of her mouth as she trphrusted forward with her weapon, going in for the win. Instead what she found was that Troy was pressing her, hard, he was slashing and hacking. Driving her towards the wall, she had no choice but to continue blocking.

"Troy, it was just a friendly taunt, I-" but he cut her off with even more attacks, she had not choice but to concentrate on their fighting. And then Before she knew it, she was pressed against the wall, she felt hersweat stained tank top stick to the brick. And suddenly she was hyper aware of everything. Like how Troy had just disarmed her and was currently very close, and I top of it was also missing his weapon. His hands were on either side of her, caging her to the wall. She squirmed, but he blocked her from really doing anything. She had to bit her lip to stop some sort of growl from escaping her lips.

"Troy-" He cut her off angrily, she could see the sweat beads on his forehead, dripping down the side of his face. "Is this some kind of game to you? Huh? We could die, during the Hunger Games. If we were reaped or stupid enough to volunteer, we could die. Does that now make sense to you? Huh?" His voice seemed deadly calm, polar opposite of how Marrisa's would have been. Marrisa felt her bottom lip curl in frustration. Hands balling up beside her.

"Troy, shut up! What the Hell are you even going on about?!" She screamed, feeling anger start to bubble up inside her. She wanted to slap him, she really did. "The games, you keep making stupid jokes about them! As if innocent kids weren't going to be dying, as if we weren't potentially going to be dying." She Was angry now, fuming, she tried pushing him off of her, but he was stronger. "Huh, Marrisa, can you stop thinking about yourself for just one second and consider things. People will die, kids will die and here you are making jokes about it?"

He punched the wall next to her, she thought she heard a crack. Troy was breathing raggedly, slowly and unevenly. Gently, as if in a trance he let go of her. Stood up straight and looked her straight in the eye. Green was on blue and she felt slightly seasick.

"Marrisa, when those games were announced I was terrified. For you and me both, but then you started asking if you thought we could win, and I though that you were thinking about volunteering, then you kept making jokes and it and taunting me with it. No Marrisa, there are some boundaries, some jokes aren't funny, Ok? And it hurts and scares me, because for all I know it, I'm gonna get picked, if I do, then just know I'll be dead Ina week. We could win it together Marrisa, I didn't lie about that part, but we could only win together. Neither of us have the strength to win it, Ok, that's my honey answer. And if you wanted to win so badly that you'd kill your best friend. Well... That's just something to think about I guess." Marrisa stared at his sea-green eyes, she looked into them, they were cold and swimming with emotions. She wanted to punch him.

Then came the thing she'd come to regret so much later on, she looked him in the eye, and walked out of the training arena. Not so much as a glance behind her. Pretending not to hear his muffled sobs or the sound of tears hitting the ground.