JayD's Note:
I forgot to mention, I don't own the Hunger Games or anything familiar. Just the characters and this plotline.
Here go the Reapings for Districts 6-1.
WOOOOO FOR BACKWARDS NUMBERSSS.
(POV: Capitol Girl)
I approach the two-story, elegant sky blue mansion that I call home. The three upstairs windows don't have any lights on. One of the three downstairs windows do, though. I type in the passcode to open the white door to the family room, which is filled with electronics like radios and game systems with a few broken phones scattered on the coffee table. I set myself down on one of my comfortable, lush couches and kick my feet up. Checking the time, I notice it's about 10:55. I can't believe I missed the first six District Reapings! Well, I guess it was for a good cause. I had to get that silver tattoo on my arm, it's so pretty! Some people here in the Capitol look so plain. It's lame. The Hunger Games are my favorite event of the year, everything else is boring. And usually, a couple of the guy tributes are really good-looking. It's too bad they die most of the time, really. Well, unless if they win. The TV's on, the silver edges are glowing a pale red from how long it's been on. I guess I could watch the last half of the Reapings; it's only 11:00. Not too late. My head turns from the clock to the screen. 6 flashes on the screen, and the camera zooms into the crowd and stage almost instantly. Some old dude with gray hair is sifting through both bowls. He pulls out two names.
"Echo Dumont and James Valentine! You are the District Six tributes this year!"
I watch the screen intently as a gorgeous guy, who must be James Valentine, stride to the stage in a swag-filled walk, flipping his light brown hair a bit. Oh yeah. I'm rooting for him to win, although almost everyone has an equal chance. The Games can be seriously crazy. I've seen a pack of three Careers get killed by some huge snake while they were going after a small District Three girl in the final four. After James gets onstage, a tall strawberry blonde girl follows him, and they give each other an intense stare. That's sort of weird. A microphone is shoved into James Valentine's hands.
"Uh, hey District Six! Root for us in the Games. Hope I come home. Bye, Aubrey." James finishes with a wave. The camera shifts to a little girl, about ten years old, waving back to James, her huge eyes the same hazel as his. My heart seems to break; that kid probably isn't going to see her brother again. James hands the microphone to Echo.
"Wish us luck, okay? And if anyone wins, I hope it's one of us!" Echo smiles and gives the microphone back to the District escort.
I tuck my chemical-filled, straight brown hair back behind my ears so the jagged black tattoos around my eyes. The black tattoo really stands out on my pale skin. I'm sure everyone in the Capitol is happy they don't have to participate in the Games. It must be horrible in that arena, with the blazing hot or super cold weather, killer mutations, lack of good food, and scarce water. Plus, there aren't any houses, or soft beds, or mansions. Ugh. I don't know how those tributes stand it, and frankly, I don't want to know either.
District Five flashes on the wall-sized TV screen. A stretch of space with lots of bright white buildings big silver tubes lined up to one side of the District. Blocks of cream-colored homes take up the rest of the land of Five. Oh, that's right, District Five is DNA Manipulations. I guess they test things… and people. Well, that doesn't put a pleasant image in my head. Once again, the scene flips to the stage, where Wynter Shinefield, the escort for Five, swipes the top of the girl's and guy's bowls.
"Harlequinn Bryant and Cameron Reed!"
Harlequinn is a dark-eyed, light brown-haired girl. Her hair gets darker as it goes down. I must admit, it looks pretty cool. I bet other people in the Capitol are going to change their hair to make it just like that. Except it wouldn't be brown, it would be neon pink or green or purple! Her t-shirt and skinny blue jeans are a total giveaway for her tomboyishness, though. The people who watch the Games always love a tomboy. They're just more cunning and clever than the other female tributes. Cameron on the other hand, is a smart-looking, rail-thin blonde guy who has bright green eyes glittering with an overwhelming determination. Wynter Shinefield waits for anyone to volunteer. Of course no one does. They know they'll be killed. I wouldn't volunteer, even if it was my own sister going into the Games. I'd probably wave goodbye and cheer when she got killed, like I did with all the other tributes that got have gotten killed in the years before.
Harlequinn grabs the microphone from Wynter. "Call me Harley, please. Thanks." Harley gives the camera a quick nod and small smile before backing up, holding the microphone to Cameron. He shakes his head.
Wynter smiles. "Alright District Five! Welcome the Fifty-second Hunger Games tributes!"
Five erupts like a volcano into a plume of shouts of encouragement, cheers, dancing, and some very high-pitched whistling. District Five sure does know how to party.
Four is next, the huge lake the District sits next to seems to be splashing violently against the levees. Then lightning flashes across the screen, and it becomes apparent there's a bad storm out there, possibly a chance for a tornado. I remember at least three years ago during the Games, there was a tornado in District Four that spun off the lake and into one of the populated areas, killing about twenty people. Three of those twenty people were related to that year's girl tribute. She found out when she got into the final eight and there was no interview from her family. The final eight when to the final seven almost right after that. But that was then and this is now. I notice Mags, the winner of the games quite a while ago, watching the crowd intently, maybe looking for the next District Four winner of the Hunger Games. The escort for Four snatches two names of the tops of the female and male bowls.
"Legacy Sparks and Joey McKabe!"
The screen flashes to a tan, curly haired brunette girl with flashing green and silver eyes, and a nervous-looking young boy with short brown curly hair.
The District Four escort looks up from the slips of paper. "Any volunt-"
"I VOLUNTEER!" A tallish, pale guy runs up to the stage, breathing heavily. "Joey isn't going to die in those freaking Games."
But Joey looks kind of mad. "You only have two more years, Logan! Then you won't have to even have the chance of being a tribute."
Logan shakes his head and gives him a hard stare. "Joey, get off the stage."
The shorter boy gives the guy named Logan a furious glare before jumping off the stage and going back to the thirteen-year-old male area.
A microphone is shoved into Logan's face. "What's your name?"
"Logan McKabe," The brown-haired boy answers.
"Well," the District Four escort chirps, "Legacy Sparks and Logan McKabe, welcome to the Fifty-second Hunger Games!"
Neither Legacy nor Logan say anything, but share an almost undetectable glance as the scene fades to a 3, the electronics District. It looks amazing there, with buildings of glass and hovercars and holograms and lights being tested all around. Silver sparks float out of tall glass chimneys, but I think they're sparks from a blowtorch. People in Three like to invent new things, fix old things to make them better, and figure out new ways to destroy things. It's amazing how creative they have to be to make all of it, really.
People in District Three dressed in metallic silvers and bronzes, plain grays and shiny shades of black, and silky whites shifted around in the Square in Three. Most people's clothes look like the very same electronics they make. A short woman dressed in black was sticking her hands deep into the Reaping bowls. After several long minutes, she draws out two.
"Star Wolff and Mason Mitchell!"
Two teens come from the same pen, one a tall, pale, dirty-blonde girl with darker brown streaks and strangely misty blue eyes, and the other a cute reddish-brown haired boy with gray eyes. They both look stubborn. The boy trips over his own feet while the girl snaps at him with a sarcastic glare. Impressive. They probably have the most personality than any of the other District Three tributes in all the Games I've seen. The woman in the black dress hands Mason Mitchell the microphone.
"Well, D-Three, I hope we make it home! Bye everyone." He winks at the crowd, handing the mic to Star.
"The way for anyone to win is strategy. And I'm strategizing right now." Star nods as the crowd cheers.
She's not lying; The few times a District Three tribute has won, they got down to the top ten or less and found a way to take them all out at the same time. This guy, Beetee, set up an electronic trap all around one area of the Arena with a thin silver wire. The other tributes were fried in no time. District three disappears and is replaced by Two. The camera instantly zooms in on the stage and crowd, not wanting to show the military supplies that is all around District Two. A guy with hypno-glasses and a white suit was standing on the stage. He quickly drew out two names.
"Circa Vapon and Carlo Vapon!"
Twins? What? I've seen siblings and cousins go into the Games, but never twins. This will make for an interesting twist in the Games. Carlo and Circa both have dirty blonde hair, Circa's long and wavy while Carlo's looks short and straight. Their eyes are also the same, green with dark brown flecks and an extremely confident glint in them. Circa's eyes are a bit darker than Carlo's. Circa's smile and Carlo's smirk is the only difference I can notice besides Carlo's slight splash of freckles. Both are slender and tall but have muscles that are big enough to show they are Careers. Hypno-Glasses Man hands Carlo the microphone. Circa leans over and they announce the same line together.
"Don't doubt for a minute in that Arena that District Two is going to lose this year."
District Two always thinks they'll win… they do, about a fourth of the time. District One is another fourth, District Four the next, and then the rest of the Districts share one-fourth also. Here it goes… the last District's Reapings before the Games. District One, the source of luxury items for the Capitol.
Grass and trees and tall buildings and homes are spread all around District One. The Capitol resource building is in the middle, with skyscrapers surrounding it. Around the skyscrapers are smaller buildings. Around those are trees, and outside of the treeline there are hundreds of homes, mostly mansions, scattered around the land with lush grass everywhere. I'm almost jealous; it looks amazing there. The beautiful scene is cut off by the District One escort announcing the tributes.
"Raylee Fox and October Jones!"
A tan teenage girl, Raylee, walks up with nervousness and a quiet confidence glinting in her caramel eyes. October, the guy, is supertall and has chocolate-brown skin. His hair is curly and black. He and Raylee shake hands once they get on the stage. Neither of them say anything, but wave at the crowd politely as they head into the mayor's building. The screen dissolves to black.
The Reapings are over. The Capitol symbol appears on the screen as the Capitol Anthem plays out. I turn off the television and go upstairs, climbing into my bed. Before drifting into a deep sleep, I think one thing:
This is going to be exciting.
Alright! Finally done with the Reapings! Sorry for the 8-day lack of updates. I went to a BTR Concert. It rocked, by the way. XD
Review, please! I want to know what people think about the story so far. Thanks! :3
~JayD