Intro, I.

Phantasm

Chapter V: Golden Tickets

Maeve Voland
'District Three Female'

Maeve wasn't necessarily a nervous person.

On the contrary, her childhood consisted of her hungrily grabbing every opportunity with both hands, shoving others aside in order to further her own goal. It didn't matter how impossible it seemed or how far out of reach the finishing line was—she would always reach it, one way or another.

So why was her knee bouncing?

Maeve quickly realised and pushed it down, desperate to ease her growing concerns.

The hall outside of Principal Lane's office was bustling, students' eyes glancing curiously and expectantly at Maeve as she sat patiently and stoic, refusing to let her facade slip. The door to her right opened as Ms. Denham poked her head out.

"Miss Voland? Principal Lane is ready to see you."

Maeve rose promptly and headed through the reception that reeked of overly sweetened tea, churning her already anxious stomach even more so. She tapped on the door twice, silencing the voices that twittered in her head.

"Come in."

Maeve stepped through, "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Miss Voland. Please, take a seat."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Her eyes caught a glance of the paperwork on his desk and she immediately knew. Deep down, she had always known—living on borrowed time, so to speak. It was always going to catch up with her.

Principal Lane's cool, grey eyes stared at her through his glasses. "Do you have any understanding on why I might've called you today?"

In her mind—racing at a hundred miles per hour—Maeve desperately tried to think of an answer. She always planned ahead. She assumed she had covered her tracks and blurred the lines but clearly there was a loose end.

"I think so," Maeve replied quietly, "It's my physics test, isn't it?"

"It is," Principal Lane sighed, "I'm afraid, Miss Voland, that it's almost identical to a previous test submitted almost ten years ago. The wording has been altered but there's too many similarities to ignore the coincidence."

Inwardly, Maeve scowled. Fucking Garrett. He sold her the test—he couldn't find another that wasn't easily traceable?

Maeve steadied her breathing and met Principal Lane's eyes, "A coincidence."

"It's a very serious offence, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"I'm also sure that you can imagine it isn't the first," Maeve leaned forward, fingertips gently holding the edge of the desk. She knew she was being so ridiculously bold—but she also knew Brooklyn Tech's policy for cheating and Maeve, as hungry as ever, couldn't afford to lose everything she had worked for. "What if I told you that I wasn't the only one?"

Principal Lane leaned forward to meet her posture, "Are you saying that there is a cheating scandal going on?"

"I might be," Maeve replied quietly—so quietly she feared the words never even came out.

"Who?"

It's now or never. Maeve swallowed the lump in her throat. "I can only tell you if there's something in return for me."

"Do you honestly believe that you're in a position to barter, Miss Voland?"

"A cornered animal will always make a final move," Maeve said tentatively, "I want no harm done to my current scores."

"Your scholarships are being removed, Miss Voland. There is no tolerance for cheating here," Principal Lane lowered the hammer, "However… I will allow you to continue on here as a full-time, paying student… if you release the names of the people involved in the cheating ring."

It's not good enough. It's not good enough.

Maeve knew that she should be so fortunate that her scholarships being revoked was the worst thing to happen and not complete expulsion—so heavy that many of the best schools in the area would blacklist her entirely, and her whole future would spiral down the drain, and there would be no pieces left to pick up—

"Deal," Maeve nodded, "But I want it in writing."

Deep down, somewhere, Maeve knew that snitching on another kid to save her own skin was immoral.

She just couldn't afford to sacrifice herself.

After everything was finalised, Maeve left Principal Lane's office with her head held high, meeting every single stare that was aimed at her. She didn't know who knew—or if Garrett was simply the tip of the iceberg and he would spill everyone else's name—but she had to keep up face.

Only when she was alone in her dorm did she finally allow herself to breathe.

So many different thoughts crossed her head, one by one. Her parents' inability to afford her tuition. Her own inability to afford her tuition. The fact that if she couldn't find the money by next semester, then everything she had worked for—years of blood, sweat and tears down the fucking drain.

Desperate to clear the brain fog, Maeve sat at her desk, booting up her laptop. She needed something, anything, that could help her. Her part-time, evening job at the coffeehouse certainly wasn't going to be enough.

Ping!

She instinctively opened her emails. Fifty-two messages from The Hunger Games Alliance.

Huh. Maeve forgot it even existed. She hadn't been on the forums in almost five—no, six–years. Her childhood obsession was suddenly blowing up. She scanned the few emails at the top, realising it was people discussing some huge, major event.

Curiosity eventually got the better of her as she opened the link, immediately being taken to another site.

"The Luminary Corporation invites you to Dreamscape—" Maeve mumbled, reading through the words. A virtual reality simulation? Competition? Seems weird… Her words, however, stopped blank on the final line. "250,000?!"

It would fix all of her problems.

Every single one of them.

It was such a long shot—but Maeve had never, ever let that deter her before. She felt the competitive child in her rear its ugly head once more as she filled in the application and sent it off.

Arcadio Diaz
'District Eleven Male'

Even when he didn't mean to be, Arcadio was the life and soul of the party.

Oftentimes, he felt bad for stealing the spotlight from the host or the honorary guest—he would walk into the room and everyone would simply crowd around him, offering him drinks or asking him to dance or wanting to chat over the suspiciously-crafted cocktails that floated amongst the youths.

It just seemed to be his luck, even when he placed no effort into it whatsoever.

So why did it always happen?

"Bebida! Bebida!"

It always crossed his mind at the worst times, too, such as being in the middle of a darkened, chanting crowd, music thudding against his skull, neck tilted back and chugging down the cheapest beer from Exito like his life depended on it.

The bitterness of the beer soured in his throat as he drained the dregs dry, raising it in the air with a triumphant grin. He really, truly hated alcohol and yet he always found himself giving in, as if a part of him thrived on the attention and adoration over his own morals.

The crowd went wild for him as if he had done something feasibly impossible.

He glanced around the room of huddled teenagers whose eyes and smiles seemed to stretch beyond the blurry lights and streaks of cigarette smoke, focused entirely on him.

All for him.

A hand clapped down hard on his shoulder, startling him back into the present.

"Arcadio!" Miguel cheered, "My guy! ¿Qué más parce?"

A little lightheaded, Arcadio looked behind him, grinning from ear to ear at his best friend, "I'm good, man. Enjoying the party."

"It's only ever a party when you turn up, parce. Here, lemme get you another drink. You deserve it, man!"

Arcadio still never understood why. In his mind, he was nothing special—a down-to-earth, normal guy who just did things that he enjoyed and showed kindness to everyone he met, no matter their background. He couldn't help but overthink it, even when he knew that living in the moment was far more important.

"No, no!" Arcadio laughed, having to shout over the music, "I have soccer in the morning."

"One more!" Miguel pleaded, "One more, one more, one more."

Arcadio shook his head, "Non-alcoholic! But then I have to go."

In the back of his mind, he knew he'd regret it. His grades propped him up but he knew that soccer, for all it was worth, was his true escape. Bogota was home but it wasn't enough. It would never fill the void that he had, gaping in his soul, desperate and hungry for more.

He wanted to live in the moment—but the future was only a day ahead of him.

Miguel soon returned with more beer for him and a glass bottle of something for Arcadio, clinking them together as he passed it over. Arcadio smiled as he swigged at the tip, using his free hand to release the scarf that, surprisingly, still hung neatly from his neck.

"Why are you still wearing that indoors?" Miguel laughed, "It's so warm! How are you not warm?"

Arcadio smirked as he tipped more liquid into his mouth and swallowed, "Force of habit! I have stiff competition with you dressing like that."

Miguel playfully nudged him, "Vete a la mierda! You always say shit like that!"

"What can I say?" Arcadio shrugged, "You're just so hot, parce!"

The two boys laughed as they finished their drinks, dancing aimlessly to the heavy beats of the bass. Arcadio vaguely saw more and more of his soccer team leaving the party sensibly but each time, Miguel pulled him in further with another drink, taking themselves over to the prettiest girls they could find so Arcadio could silently giggle at Miguel's poor attempts to flirt with them.

"Come on! Just a smooch," Miguel purred drunkenly, "We used to make out all the time, Carmen."

Carmen, for all her worth, enjoyed toying with him. "No, you have to take me out first."

"Carmen!" Miguel whined, "I'm on my knees here, begging you! Arcadio, back me up. Tell her how I'm dying."

Arcadio laughed, "He's dying, Carmen. Why be so heartless?"

All of Carmen's friends giggled as she flipped her long hair over her shoulder, "You need a cold shower, Miguel, and a peppermint."

It was so easy to get lost in the moment despite every inclination in him to not. By the time he looked down at his watch, three more hours had passed.

Mierda! "Hey, Miguel. I have to go."

Miguel spun around, puppy-dog eyes wide and pleading, "She's not going to kiss me, Arcadio. I'm a dying man!"

Arcadio grabbed his friend by the cheeks, crashing their lips together briefly, "This'll have to do! I'll text you tomorrow, parce."

He didn't wait around to see the fallout of the spontaneous kiss—it meant nothing, after all. He made as swift of an exit as possible, avoiding as many people who were desperate to keep him going further into the early hours of the morning.

The humid air clung to his back as he moved hastily down the street.

Mama wouldn't wait up for him. She trusted her eldest child—the de facto man of the house—enough to be responsible with his timekeeping. It was both a blessing and a curse that Arcadio often felt guilty for subconsciously taking advantage of.

He soon arrived at his high rise, swinging the hall door open. Taking the stairs two at a time, he was outside of his door before he knew it, unlocking it as quietly as possible. The dead silence would've been welcoming… if Jaime wasn't still awake, the crack of his doorway illuminated in an eerie blue.

Arcadio inched his door open, "Why are you still awake?"

Jaime jumped out of his skin when he realised. "Arcadio!"

"Shh!" Arcadio slipped in, closing the door behind him and crossing the small bedroom to his younger brother, "You'll make Mama and Valeria. Why are you still on your phone at this time of the morning?"

Jaime couldn't hide his grin, shoving his phone in Arcadio's face, "Look! It's all over the internet!"

Through sleepy eyes, Arcadio read the screen. "Hunger Games? You mean like the movie?"

"They made a game about it! It's so cool!" Jaime hissed excitedly, "You've gotta apply!"

Smiling, Arcadio carried on reading. He could see from over the screen, though, at how excited Jaime was about it. It didn't quite hit him the same—until he saw the prize money being handed out. His eyes widened in surprise.

"I'll think about it," Arcadio whispered softly, passing the phone back to Jaime, "Go to sleep now, okay?"

But in his mind, he realised that his yearning—in all its grotesque glory—could be fulfilled with that money.

It couldn't hurt to just… fill in an application… could it?

Daniel Morales
'District One Male'

If there was any one place in the entire world that Dani longed to be, every second of every day, it was the beach.

Tampa was infamous for its golden coasts, stretching on for miles, leading into the azure waters that Dani would often have to Baywatch himself into like David Hasselhoff in his prime in order to save a distressed swimmer. It wasn't easy work, that was for sure, but being on the beach and in the water was almost second nature to him.

Besides, Dani wasn't that stupid—it was one of the few things he was great at so he rolled with it. Tampa was his home and his heart. He didn't need anything else.

So why did he submit an application to that competition?

Dani stared at the email on his phone. He was so confused. As first, he thought it was spam—he had a habit of stupidly clicking on every link that popped up, never learning his lesson—but it lead back to his application form that he… apparently… filled out.

"Not gonna lie, man, but you look more confused than you normally do."

Dani looked up from the screen at Casey's voice. "Do you remember me doing this?"

Casey took Dani's phone from his hand, squinting from the sunlight as he read it. "Dude! This is legit!"

"I don't remember doing it…"

"I do," Casey handed it back, "It was the end of shift about two weeks ago. That night at Luke's."

Dani was truly dumbfounded, staring at his co-lifeguard as if he were speaking gibberish.

Casey laughed, "Fuck, you were so high to be fair. You must've had like seven brownies. Not surprised that it's dumbed you down even more."

He would've tried his best to remember that night but Casey was right—he only remembered the gooey brownies and the onslaught of warm, peaceful colours that cradled him for the rest of the night. Anything beyond that was going to be impossible to remember… but that was the whole point of the hash brownies. To kick back, relax, and erase the day away.

"So, it's legit?" Dani's eyes widened, "I… got in?"

"It's what it says," Casey smirked before standing up on his chair, blowing his whistle, "Hey! Quit fucking around near those rocks!"

Truthfully, if Dani had done it, it was for the shits and giggles. He loved video games, true—but he was more into Pokemon and Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley… essentially anything that wasn't remotely competitive and didn't involve guns (Dani had terrible aim.)

"I dunno…" Dani mumbled, lounging back in the lifeguard chair, staring up at the cloudless sky, "I don't really want to do it. It just sounds like a lot of work."

"That's because you're an idiot," Casey shot back almost immediately, "Think of the money, man! You could literally sit in your pants and play games all day. You could visit any beach in the world with that money!"

Dani shrugged, "Money isn't important to me."

"Money makes the world go round," Casey sighed, "If you don't do it, you're insane. I bet Kate and Vance would both encourage you to do it."

Dani pondered the reality of his girlfriend and boyfriend agreeing on it—if anything, he could take them both on a trip if he did win. Somewhere nice with a great beach but not too sunny because they were goths.

"You really think I should then?"

"Hell yeah!" Casey beamed, "You'll do me good too, won't you?"

"If I win," Dani pointed out.

"You're too sexy not to win."

Dani laughed briefly before he stopped, "Wait, do you think that'd matter?"

"This is why you're pretty, my guy," Casey smiled, "Come on. We better do rounds."

The two lifeguards hopped down from their chairs. Dani sighed happily as the sand melted in between his toes. It truly was his happy place. Can I give it up, even for two weeks? He really had never put much thought into things as he did now. Why did it weigh so heavily on his mind? Was it really the work that he would have to put into it, or the potential failure?

Head… hurt. Dani distracted himself with the sounds of happy beach-goers, the salt in the air that floated on his tongue, the gentle crashes of the waves as they rocked the shoreline.

"I'm gonna do it," Dani blurted, squinting as he turned to Casey, "I'd be crazy not to, right?"

"Right!" Casey clapped his hand down onto his shoulder, "You've got this! It's like when we binged that season of Fear Factor a few weeks ago—"

"—I was so high, man, I don't remember—"

"—But the point is that you're gonna be one of those people!" Casey gushed, "You could be famous at the end of it!"

Dani thumbed his cell from his shorts pocket again, "Did it say somewhere about it airing on T.V?"

"It's gotta. These things always do."

For some reason—though he knew he wasn't the brightest bulb—he didn't believe that it did. He scrolled for all of five seconds before he concluded that Casey had to be right. There's no way it wouldn't.

Damn… am I gonna be famous now? Dani let it cross his mind. What would I buy first? Where would I travel? The options were a little overwhelming—and he hadn't even left Tampa yet to go to…wherever it said.

One thing was for certain, though, Dani realised as he and Casey laughed, soaking up the sun as they walked.

He'd be back before he knew it.

Carolina Lennix
'District Nine Female'

For as long as Carolina could remember, she had a plan.

She had poured hundreds of hours into it, perfecting every detail, fine-tuning the more intricate parts until they made sense. For a very, very long time, it was all she was obsessed with to the point that she couldn't sleep most nights without thinking about it.

It had been such a long journey but she could finally see the beginnings of the yellow brick road towards her dream, as faded and beat up as the bricks were.

So why did she feel guilty?

Mostly, Ryan, her younger brother.

In the armpit of Indiana, he was alone—not literally, as their grandma doted on him—but it had been a year since she last saw him.

She foolishly promised him when she left for Chicago that she would eventually bring him over. He just had to finish school and apply to any of the colleges near her apartment so that he would have the option of dormitories or commuting, and then… they could live their lives as free as they had always wanted (mostly).

Except as each week turned into a month, there was just never a good time to do so.

And maybe that's why Carolina felt so guilty—because she knew, deep down, her future didn't necessarily include him but she also couldn't bear to hold onto the shame that would follow her, too, if she abandoned him.

A double-edged sword that had started with their drunkard, absent, loser parents.

And somehow ended up crucifying Carolina for as long as she could remember.

She loved her brother with every fibre of her being—but she wanted to live her life the way she had always dreamed.

Is that why she kept putting off bringing him over for a visit? A reminder of something she couldn't let go?

Carolina stirred the sweetener into her coffee, breathing heavily as the morning sun crept into her apartment. A small, studio apartment where her fridge and bed were mere metres apart. It wasn't much but it was far better than what she had known for many years.

Her cell buzzed. A text from Ryan.

'Can I come visit next break? I need to get out of here.'

She knew she couldn't afford to host him—not when she was trying to save so desperately whatever she could—yet she couldn't stomach the idea of outright rejecting him. Her thumbs moved on their own instinct.

'We'll have to see, bud. Work is heavy at the moment x'

Work was always heavy. She couldn't use that excuse forever.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the mounting letters on the table. Angry, red font bore through the white. Every day, another debt joined the pile, one by one by one. Maybe she was delusional, thinking if she ignored them or paid back the bare minimum then it would all be fine. But it was all she had.

I hate it, Carolina berated herself, swigging on the hot coffee until it scorched her tongue. She sighed—but not of caffeine-induced happiness. Guess I'll have to use it up… again. I'm no closer. Never any closer…

Most of it would be medical bills. She knew that much.

She sometimes felt like she was barely above the water.

Shaking her head free of thoughts, Carolina downed her coffee and headed for her morning shift at the diner. It was only a short walk away—the only benefit of having her boss as her landlord meant that he was, surprisingly, soft on her.

She swung open the door, greeted by the warm, comforting smell of cinnamon pancakes and whipped cream.

"Morning, Carolina!" Bob smiled from behind the counter, "Ready for another great day?"

His peppiness was more endearing than annoying. Carolina smiled in return, "Sure am, boss. Ready to push those morning waffles."

"I know you will," Bob agreed, "My superstar waitress!"

Carolina laughed as she slipped on out into the back, hanging up her bag and collecting her apron.

She busied her morning with the opening routine—making coffee, wiping down the tables, organising the cutlery, ensuring that the desserts counter was impeccably laid out for eyes to feast upon. It was mind-numbing work most days but Carolina was nothing if not someone who threw her all into it knowing that she would benefit if she just tried hard enough.

Besides… she needed the money and nobody liked a grumpy waitress.

So, Carolina put her best foot forward when the diner opened.

Her smile was surprisingly contagious. Her work ethic was impressive. Her drive to garner as many tips as she could and to please her boss slash landlord (who she needed to butter up before asking him to push her rent back).

"You smashed that breakfast run!" Bob grinned as he shovelled out the last waffle, "Same for lunch?"

I need to reply to Ryan.

"Can I take five after? I need to recharge this smile," Carolina joked.

Bob jabbed at her approvingly, "No problem, tiger!"

Carolina slinked out to the back, retrieving her phone from her bag. There were two unread messages, ringing like alarms that made Carolina instinctively slide them away, as if it could make them magically disappear permanently.

An email, however, pulled her focus.

She opened it up, instantly bombarded with flashing images and sounds.

CONGRATULATIONS!

You have been selected as one of our twenty-four contestants to trial Dreamscape—the hottest new game of the century!

Please select a schedule time below for us to contact you with further information.

We look forward to your participation!

—The Luminary Corporation

Initially, Carolina assumed it was a prank—god knows her habit of agreeing to the terms and conditions without reading the part about 'selling data' was a huge problem—but the provided link showed her application… something she had done on Bob's computer.

Her eyes widened when it finally sunk in. She grappled for the chair behind her, pulling herself down, hands shaking as she read it over and over and over again.

The prize money spun around in her head. The solution to all of her problems.

The start of her yellow brick road.

Her future… just twenty-three contestants away.

w w w. dreamsarenightmarestoo. weebly (slash) the-players

Introducing: Maeve, Arcadio, Dani and Carolina! Thank you to their respective submitters!

Next: Kai, Ava, Joaquim and Nina.

Not every intro is going to be like this. We're spending a decent amount of time with these characters before we reach the arena (and in total bliss, too) and I've never been one for bog-standard intros anyway. Besides, everyone will still be alive at the end of it so everybody is winning.

Let me know what you think about them!

(Also, a side note: I do not speak Spanish, like, at all. I Google translated every word you see so please only flame me a small amount for it, thank you).

—Corey