Author's Note (Dec. 27, 2013) - This story is the 72nd Hunger Games. Yes, it used to be the 71st, until I realized Johanna won the 71st, which I'm surprised no one ever pointed out. So, wherever you see it mention the 71st, it's actually the 72nd. Thanks a lot! PS, if you're reading this, I'm still here. Reviews are always appreciated, just keep in mind, this was my first story ever, so be gentle!

Don't fall asleep with the motor on
She'll make you sweat in the water
Don't fall asleep with the motor on
She'll make you sweat in the water
Something like a phenomena, baby
You're something like a phenomena

Bravo Poise

Marko, my stylist is listening intently to whoever was speaking on the other side of his small silver earpiece. His eyebrows are furrowed and body unmoving. He nods and mumbles something incomprehensible before turning away from me. Whatever. I disregard his strange behavior and return to my previous activity of psyching myself up for the Battle at the Cornucopia. I try to review the plan in my head, all six of us will most likely be spread apart, encircling the Cornucopia. As soon as the gong sounds, we will all run forward, picking up weapons along the way and fighting off anyone who dares to stop us. Crisis will watch out for Audrina, I for Ariadne, Hana for Harbor and vise versa. Once we get to the weapons it will be easy, provided that they give us weapons. I shake my head, abandoning the thought. Of course they will give us weapons, they was what we did at our Gamemaker sessions. They heard us during our interviews.

As hard as I try to focus on the plan, my mind keeps wandering. It's not nervousness or, God forbid, fear. Anticipation. It's anticipation of finally seeing the arena, the climate, the terrain, the supplies and weapons left for us, but most of all, the look of pure terror on the other tribute's faces. Terror of knowing that they are breathing their last breaths. Terror of the realization that they are finally in the arena with us, the Careers, who have been trained our entire lives in all the various ways to kill them, our biggest problem is deciding which one.

I am so lost in my thoughts of imagining various ways to kill and humiliate the other tributes that I don't notice Marko standing above me, unsuccessfully trying to capture my attention.

"Yeah?" I ask him, patiently waiting for him to stop flailing his hands in my face, though what I really want is to snap them off. And I could, it would be easier than snapping a twig.

He gestures to the outfit hanging on the door. I examine it carefully, a black t-shirt, black pants and a leather jacket. It is paired with socks and combat boots. Well District Two will feel right at home. I think back to the outfits Crisis and Audrina wore to their Reaping. They are almost identical to the one hanging before me.

"It's time to get dressed.", Marko says, and explains the material of the clothing to me. The pants and shirt are waterproof. The jacket is synthetic leather, and it is made to withstand water, cold temperatures and heavy winds. The socks and boots are designed to keep your feet warm, but show know waterproof qualities.

Once I am dressed I give Marko a strange look.

"Now I know you've done this before and I haven't, but I thought we don't get dressed until we get the the Launch Room."

Marko exhales deeply before he speaks, "That's because this is the Launch Room."

I furrow my eyebrows. What the hell? We're still in the hovercraft.

"I don't understand."

"We're not going to an underground Launch Room this year because you're not going up in the tubes."

I'm still confused.

"We're dropping you in."

Oh, fuck.

Audrina Prescott

"You're dropping us in?" I gape at Mal, my idiot of a stylist.

"Well, no. Yes. No."

Never have I so badly wanted to strangle a person.

"Yes, we're dropping you in. But we're not just going to open the hatch and let you fall. You'll be paralyzed on the ladder until your feet are firmly on the plate."

I exhale. Okay, that doesn't sound so bad. I still don't understand why they have to drop us in though. It makes me feel nervous. Unsure and anxious. Never in my lifetime have I seen a Hunger Games where the tributes aren't lifted into the arena from the underground Launch Room. Being a Trainee, I've probably seen every single tape of the Games in existence, it was part of our daily education. I don't know what to expect now. Well, I know even less than I did before. I feel panic setting in, and try to calm myself, knowing that it is better not to worry until we get down there. As of now, the plan still stands. If the Gamemakers throw us a curveball, we will deal with it. We're quick on our feet, we know how to survive, we're Careers. We'll be fine.

My thoughts are interrupted by a loud robotic voice ringing throughout the hovercraft. Time for launch. Or, well... drop.

Mal helps me into the hatch, making sure my feet are secure on the bottom rung and my hands are holding on tightly. It's not like I'll be able to move them once the door opens, anyways. I stare at my reflection in the shiny metal surrounding the hatch. I'm dressed in an outfit similar to the one I always wore at home. My long hair is in two fishtail braids, keeping it out of my way. I stare into my own eyes, willing the vulnerability in them to disappear until suddenly, they lose their light. They turn cold and dark, and I know I am ready. Ready to fight and kill anyone who crosses my path. Ready to win.

"Good luck, Audrina.", Mal calls from above and the hatch opens. I am slowly descending in the air, unable to move anything but my eyes.

The arena is huge. Tall yellow grass expands for miles in every direction. It reaches so high that I can not see the metal plates where we are set to land. Suddenly it crosses my mind that something is missing. When my feet finally hit the metal plate and the paralysis ceases, I look around, examining the arena from the ground. I locate Crisis, Bravo, Ari and Hana and notice they are all looking around with the same panicked and confused looks on their faces.

There is no Cornucopia.

Corbin Devereux

60...59...58...57...

Panic. Fear. Confusion. Desperation. The emotions that flash across my fellow tributes' faces are innumerable. We're shocked. We're scared. Never have any of us seen anything like it.

Hurriedly I look for my allies, wanting some sort of confirmation that our plan is still intact.

Wiress told me to run. Beetee said to only grab supplies if they are less than five feet from our plates, but to let it go if someone else tries to take it from us. The Careers are chock full of knife and spear throwers this year, and they will not hesitate to pick off us weaker tributes first.

Lucy is standing three plates away from me, looking paralyzed with fear. Hero staring desperately in her direction, as if he is trying to send her messages telepathically. I look around for Aria and finally find her, standing directly across from me on the other side of the field. I make eye contact with her and she gives the slightest nod. I exhale in relief, the plan is still intact, even if Hero and Lucy can't get it together, we will run. We're small and we're quick, we'll be able to get away before anyone notices us. There will be no spears or knives for them to throw at us and they will probably be so confused at the lack of a Cornucopia that we won't even have to worry about anyone seeing us. I relax and take deep breaths during the last ten seconds of the countdown. While there is still uncertainty, I feel better that we have a plan again.

5...4...3...2...1

The gong rings out and I lose the ground beneath my feet. Screams ring out from every direction.

We are falling.

The more comments I get, the more I will be inclined to post the bloodbath sooner! ;)

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-Becca

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