AN: So, I feel really loved and really UNloved at the same time. There is one person who has sent in 4 tributes, 2 people who have sent in 2 tributes, and the rest of the people who follow the story who I KNOW follow the story cuz I get email alerts about it (ya I know I'm a stalker) who just read the story but haven't even sent in a single tribute... thanks a lot guys, ur the reason I feel so unloved. There are 15 places left in these Games! Boys or girls, Bloodbaths or contenders, ANYTHING! (I mostly need Bloodbaths though) But anyway, stop being idle little nincompoops and SEND IN A TRIBUTE! DEADLINE MAY 17!
Anyway, special mention goes to...drumroll please...
1. amethyst2003, who sent in 4 tributes (we love you Amethyst!)
2. ThomasHungerGamesFan, who sent in 2 REALLY LONG AND COMPREHENSIVELY WRITTEN tributes (we love you Thomas!)
3. alternatereality42, who sent in 2 tributes (we love you Alternate!)
The rest of you, GET OFF YOUR BUTTS AND PM/REVIEW ME A TRIBUTE!
Well that was a REALLY long author note...
Octavius skilfully threw his net, trying to wind it around his mother's legs. But she was too quick, having spent years training tributes, half of them as the Head Trainer. She thrust in with her sword, but she had trained him too well. He blocked with his trident, and they were at a stalemate. They stood there, panting heavily for a few seconds, before Atala caught her breath.
"That was amazing, Octavius! Quite the feat, almost defeating the Head Trainer of 8 years!" "So.. You think I'm ready?" "Of course!" Atala responded. This surprised Octavius a lot. Ever sine he was five years old, Octavius had been training to compete in the Hunger Games. Atala had been planning on asking Snow if he could become a citizen of District One, on the day of the reaping, so that he was eligible to volunteer. When he returned, he would return to being a Capitolite. Luckily for both of them, though, it was now even easier! The Capitol Games' reaping would be in two days, and he was planning on volunteering. Atala had been training him long and hard, and this was his chance to shine. He had specially dyed his hair red and his skin an ashen gray to look more menacing. Combine that with his obsidian black eyes and skull and crossbones tattoo on his right temple, and he was sure to both scare tributes out of their minds and attract lots of sponsors.
Carlos adjusted the reading glasses perched on his long brown nose and peered at the formula on his desk: Ra*8x2Bh(Os87)%4!=Muttation A2E# (otherwise known as SpiderMan). He looked down at the diagram of a SpiderMan, frowning. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He started scribbling fast and furious. Suddenly, the voice of his mother registered in his mind. "Carlos, sweetie! Time for dinner!" He realised he was starving. Dropping his pen, he ran from the room that served as his bedroom/study into what was their kitchen/living room/dining room. The only other room in their tiny hut was his parent's bedroom. A makeshift outhouse was outside.
"Hello, Carlos." His father said tiredly, again fidgeting with the anklet that held him to the confines of their property. He could go in the garden, outhouse, or hut, but anywhere else and Police Officers would come flying down on him. Carlos grimaced. He felt bad for his father. Less than two years ago, he had held the prestigious position of Mutt Gamemaker. This was the Gamemaker in charge of all the mutts in the arena. Now, he had taught Carlos all of his knowledge, and was wasting away in a tiny, three-room hut. At least, Carlos and his father called it a hut. His mother insisted that it was a cottage.
"Did you solve the formula?" Asked his father, as they slowly picked away at their meager dinner. "Yeah! It was so fun!" Carlos and his father got into an animated discussion, debating different versions of different mutts, comparing notes on the new one that they were inventing, and, overall, just having a great time sharing their passion. It helped them forget about the hard times, especially the upcoming Hunger Games...
She was ten years old. She had taken the shortcut home from school, and had stopped in the middle of an alleyway to text her friend, "lol, ur so funny!" when she heard someone behind her. She whipped around, but never got to see who it was. A club flew into her head, knocking her out cold.
Zee sat up, shaking. Memories flashed through her mind. The deserted island that she was taken to after being kidnapped. Finally cutting through the ropes that bonded her, after days and days of knawing at them. Swimming as fast as she could through freezing cold water. Ending up on a barren strip of land. Walking for days, on beaches, through forests, into ruined cities, living on rats. Finally she had found herself at the edge of Panem, in District 13. They had sent her back to the Capitol, to her mother, the Arena Gamemaker. They had told her never to tell anyone that District 13 existed, including her mother, or she and whoever she told would be tortured and killed. They had tried memory modification, but back then their technology was too weak and her mind had resisted it. Now, she was glad she had. It had given her motivation to train in martial arts, swordfighting, knife throwing, and survival skills. This made her a contender in the Capitol Games, for which she would most certainly would be, given her heritage. As far back as she could remember, the women in her family had been Gamemakers. Ever since the Games began. Her great-grandmother even helped create the Games! Now, she was very glad for the kidnapping.
Zee stood up, stretching her long, curvy body. That's all behind you now, she told herself sternly. It won't do you any good to be having nightmares that wake you up screaming in the arena, it will simply draw tributes. Try to get over it now, Zee. Time to train for the Games.
She grabbed a granola bar and a glass of milk. She finished her breakfast quickly. She took a quick look in the mirror. Zee had pale white skin, ebony hair, full red lips and big blue eyes. She could be quite pretty if she wanted, but Zee blamed her looks for her kidnapping and so her hair had been cut short and she wore no makeup. She stroked the tattoo of the word "shiv" (to stab with a knife) under her collarbone then turned and walked out the door. Time to kill.
Claudia lay in bed, silently crying. The Capitol Hunger Games had just been announced. She was sure they were rigged, and her mother, although slowly dying in jail, had been Snow's poisons master. She had been his adviser and longtime friend, and had killed too many innocent Capitolites for her to count. Claudia was a pretty good athlete, but she had never fought anyone in her life. Even worse, when she had been watching the Gamemakers prepare the arena for the 74th Games, having saved up her pocket money all year to watch this, a rogue fireball had caught her in the leg. Although she had gotten a fireball tattoo where it hit, meaning that she had accepted that this had happened, she sill walked with a limp. Finally, she sat up.
Claudia decided that she had had enough for the day. She undid the complicated braid in which she often wore her blonde hair, then curled into bed with a good book. This calmed her right away, and she drifted off to sleep...
AN: That's the first promised chapter out of two guys! And if you haven't yet, send in a tribute!
