The first games were a heavily coordinated event. Head Gamemaker Volumnia Gaul had pulled a few strings in order to ensure the perfect result, and she got everything she had wanted and more. The first Games had been the highest selling event in the history of the Capitol and at the end of it, she had her perfect, shining Victor. Many in the districts had hoped that the Games would end there and that the Capitol would be satisfied with the sheer control they had demonstrated. They hoped that 23 innocent deaths would satiate the voices crying out for more blood
A foolish thought. There was no satiating the Capitol.
The second Games needed to be bigger, better, and twice as grand in order to maintain interest. Reporters flocked to the house of Academy Dean Casca Highbottom to interview the creator of the games and ask what plans were in store for this year, only to be greeted by the door slamming shut in their face. They turned instead to Dr. Gaul, whose odd mannerisms and verbose prose made for television that was at least interesting, if not a tad off-putting at times. Expectations were at an all-time high. Magazines published interviews with last year's winner Invictus, television channels showed highlights of fan-favorite kills, and the Capitol even announced a Hunger Games-themed banquet scheduled for the night before the games began (only for the social elite to attend, of course).
Protests against the Games rose up in the districts and even within the Capitol. The ritual slaughter of 23 children was hard for even the most ruthless of Capitol philosophers to defend morally and although most of the city eagerly awaited the spectacle, there were those with reservations. District-based protests were quickly halted with Peacekeeper squadrons implementing frequent floggings and executions. Capitol citizens with sympathetic perspectives quickly saw what was happening in the districts and ceased their protests. The Games were to continue, no matter what.
The reapings were random this time. Actually random, not the sham that was last year's drawings. The crop of tributes selected showed great promise as well, promising an exciting showing. Shine, the boy from 1 was as handsome and alluring as both of last year's tributes combined. Hammond and Lexia out of 2 were both physical beasts, and rumors had spread of Invictus personally training them. Even the outlier districts had strong showings. Forrest from 7 was built like the trees he brought down with his axe, and Vale from 9 had clearly defined muscles from years of working in the grain fields.
Nobody attracted the Capitol audience more, however, than Marlin Highwater out of District 4. Born to a fishmonger and an oil refinery plant worker, the 16 year old had captivated watchers during the reaping, brushing his scruffy brown hair out of his eyes and giving them a small, secretive smile. His district partner had stared at him with a hint of jealousy as he walked out into the arena to a sea of cheers. Marlin played to the crowd, waving and blowing kisses back at them. The boy had indeed discovered the greatest weapon in the Hunger Games, one that would later be utilized to full effect by Victors like Finnick Odair, Victorine Laurent, and yes, Peeta Mellark — winning the audience.
The second Games would be similar to the first with a few noticeable changes. The arena was the same, as well as the open air seating. Ticket prices were raised to a few thousand dollars each, with decade-long tickets available for $10,000. After all, profits still came first. The tributes wouldn't be dressed in sacrificial white but rather the clothes off their back from their district to impress upon the Capitol people the difference between them and district trash. Weapons would still be available, of course, but instead of being scattered across the arena, the Gamemakers had moved them to the center of the area to incentivize immediate combat. Dr. Gaul personally ensured the availability of certain weapons that specific tributes were skilled in. Tridents for the Fours, axes for the Sevens, sickles for the Nines – what better way to showcase the brutality and desperation of humanity than to start each Games with a bloodbath?
When the clock hit zero, the tributes acted predictably. Most began screaming and crying, while the more prepared tributes from 1, 2, 4, and 7 sprinted straight towards the pile of weapons at the center of the arena. Marlin was among them, and he and Reef, his partner from 4, stood back to back clutching matching tridents. They had quickly agreed to an alliance while on the cattle car together. Indeed, the tributes had realized that teaming up was the best way to win, and districts 1, 2, 7, and 9 had also banded together.
The massive pile of weapons that would later become the Cornucopia worked exactly as intended. Game historians and fans would consider the Second one of the bloodiest games in history. Within minutes, 7 tributes had been beaten, bludgeoned, stabbed, sliced, and otherwise generally mangled to death. Vale had fallen to Hammond's mace and sat slumped over, his stomach an open bloody mess of bruise and gore. Shine's gorgeous face was broken and battered — it turned out the boy from 5 had a stronger punch than he had bargained for. At the center of it all, Marlin and Reef were a whirlpool of carnage. They stood upon the pile spearing anyone who dared to get close to them. The audience whooped and cheered as Reef stabbed Forrest through the chest and pulled him close allowing Marlin to finish the job. Unlike Invictus, who had butchered his way out of the arena, the Fours played defensively, letting their enemies approach them and then seizing their weak spots.
The 5 boy, Manny, put up a much stronger fight than expected. Growing up impoverished in a large family had taught him how to steal, how to fight for the last piece of bread at the dinner table. He was a survivor, and armed with only a small hunting knife was able to sneak his way into three kills, Shine included. He dared to think he stood a chance at sneaking up on the pair from 4 until Marlin harpooned him through the knee. Back home in the district, his parents and five siblings watched in horror as the fisher-boy brought his trident down a second time, then a third for good measure.
it came down to the Fours and Hammond. The larger boy cracked his knuckles and lifted his mace, creasing his face into an ugly grimace. Two against one was hardly a fair fight, but the idea of fairness had all but disappeared when his name came out of the reaping bowl. Hammond thought about Annette. Before everything went to hell, he had been saving up his meager wages for months to afford a ring. Not one of those paltry stone bands common to his district – a nice golden one, imported from District One. No, when he married her he wanted everything to be perfect. When they called his name, their family and friends had to practically rip her off of him as he was escorted to the tribute train. He had screamed assurances, promises that he would come back to her, and he intended to hold true to those promises.
Hammond charged in, mace in hand. Marlin lunged at his underbelly with his trident, but the boy from 2 contorted his body with surprising dexterity and bashed his leg, knocking him to the ground before wrapping around to attack Reef. Moments before he'd reach her, she quickly backed out of the way and launched her trident with all her might. The heat and physicality of the games had taken a toll on her, however, and she missed by just a hair. Hammond took the opportunity to move in, raising his mace with a guttural cry. As he brought it down onto Marlin's head, he had the temerity to imagine himself standing tall with trumpets blaring. He was coming home, Annette. Just like he said he would.
Hammond fell with a thud, crashing to the ground. Marlin, panting with exhaustion and fear, wiped the sweat off his brow and looked up at his savior. Standing tall, Reef pulled her trident out of Hammond's back. She reached out her hand and helped Marlin to his feet.
"I guess we do this now?" she whispered. Marlin opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by shouting.
"He's still alive!" "Finish the job!" "We love you Marlin!" Rabid fans from the audience cried out to him before being escorted out of the stadium. Interfering with the games was strictly forbidden, of course, but the damage was done. Reef whipped around to see a heavily wounded Hammond reaching out to grab her in one last desperate attempt to go home.
"I'm sorry, I don't want to do this." Reef lifted her trident, eyes glimmering. "I just want to go home." She brought the weapon down into the back of his neck. It was a good kill, clean and fast. Under the hot sun, she wiped the sweat out of her eyes and took a second to regain her bearings. Just for a single moment, she forgot the nature of the Hunger Games.
Marlin didn't.
A quick stab through the back of his ally and Marlin was the winner of the second Hunger Games. Even as trumpets blared, Peacekeepers had to literally drag the sobbing wreck of a boy away from Reef's body as he begged on his knees for forgiveness.
The Capitol would slowly forget about Marlin. Perhaps the dazzling fisher-boy who had charmed the audience would have become a star in later years, but in the early days of the Games Victors received very little reward for winning other than their continued survival. With no Victory Tour or raving paparazzi, the boy from 4 would become an afterthought, especially compared to the monster before him. Sure, he would never quite fade from memory, but the second Hunger Games would eventually be matched in brutality by years like the 19th, the 62nd, and oh gods, the 67th. Marlin himself would come to appreciate this, as it allowed him to resign to the background and try his best to live a normal life.
Back home, Marlin did his best to adjust. The accusing stares and tight-lipped politeness of his neighbors was one thing, but the coldness with which his family treated him was another. His parents never said anything, never voiced the displeasure they felt towards him, but they never really had to. District ties run deep, and he would never be quite forgiven for his betrayal. Marlin would end up leaving home after a few months and moving in with a roving fishing company on the western coastline where they didn't care who he was or what he had done as long as he met his catch quota for the month.
Losing his family and community would take a toll on him, and more often than not the once radiant Victor could be found at the local pub drowning his past in liquor and, eventually, morphling. For the next 9 years, Marlin would live in a trance-like state, never sober enough to pull himself together but never quite drunk enough to forget his past.
After the fiasco that was the 10th Games, Dr. Gaul would implement a series of sweeping changes, one of which was the mentoring of tributes by former Victors. After three calls, Marlin finally picked up his phone and learned the news. He couldn't let more of his people die because of him. In all of his years mentoring, he managed to save three, setting a district record and a nation-wide one that would only ever be surpassed by Brutus. The red-headed firebrand became his best friend, and while the embittered survivor and the tortured artist may not have been biologically related to him, they became the closest thing to his children. The first would give him a reason to live, the second would give him a reason to stay sober, and the third would give him a reason to fight.
Marlin became renowned for his mentoring. His tributes almost always put up a fight and always ranked near the top of the betting odds. Most importantly, his tributes always obeyed one key rule. Never would someone mentored by Marlin ever even think about turning on their district partner.
He lost his fair share of tributes, of course, and mourned each and every one of them deeply. But the ones he brought back fueled the fire deep inside his hearth. Spending holidays with them in Victor's Village, celebrating their marriages and the birth of their children, sharing their joy when they saved a tribute, mourning with them when they lost one — within his Victors, their Victors, and the community they built together, Marlin found something he had lost a long time ago.