Author's Note

I do not own The Hunger Games.

For anyone new to this verse who hasn't read Glitch in the System, these characters are some of the survivors from that story. They'll be making regular appearances through Game Over.

For anyone interested in submitting, there are still a few spaces remaining, but submissions will be closed very soon. So if you're interested, PM me!

The Capitol

Iridescence Sterling, 17

She ran a hand through her hair. With it cut short like this, she looked even more like Luminescence and Radiance. It meant she could see them in the mirror.

"Ares is here!" Phoenix called.

Iridescence hurried through to the hallway, where Ares was just letting himself in. He'd dyed his hair in pink, green, and blue stripes last month, and was letting it grow out, the ends curling. Today, he also had a pink jacket pulled over his shoulders, though it looked too small for him.

He stared at her. "You look…"

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"It's…"

"I wanted to look different. After everything."

A lie, and they both knew it. But he'd not call her out. Not dressed like that.

"It suits you," he said at last.

Just like it had always suited her brothers.

"Did you see Thorin on the way here?"

"No. Figured we'd all go there together. Assuming Phoenix is coming?"

Phoenix emerged from her own room with her new sparkling red jacket on. It clashed with her newly deep green hair, but she liked to wear the things people sent her, to show they were being acknowledged. Besides, some of the stuff they got was better than anything they would ever own.

"Ready to go?" Iridescence asked.

Phoenix nodded, scooping up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She'd taken to carrying that around, keeping supplies for various possible scenarios with her. "When you are."

Ares opened the door and ushered them out. Iridescence locked the door behind them. A tall, pale man with dark tattoos splashed across his face smiled as he approached them.

"We're not interested," Ares said, moving to shield Iridescence from the man's sharp eyes.

A pair of Peacekeepers moved to cut them off.

"I think you'll want to hear what I have to say," said the man.

Vivaldi Perlman, 16

The only time he felt alive now was when he was with Thorin. He was the one that kept his heart breathing and his blood racing.

And maybe Phoenix could understand some of what he'd been through. She'd been there most of the way, after all. If not for Phoenix, Vivaldi would never have made it even half the way through The Game.

No one else understood him.

Least of all his parents.

Vivaldi stared at his violin. It was his prized possession, his favourite instrument. He'd poured his heart and soul into it over the last six months.

And his parents wanted to monetise that.

They wanted him to sell his suffering, to publicise his pain, all to further their family's names and ambitions.

Vivaldi couldn't do it.

Those songs of pain he'd made, they were private. They were his journey, his breath.

He seized the violin, raised it high in the air, brought it down on the floor.

A few strikes reduced it to ruined wood, a few more and it had started fracturing. Vivaldi roared and kicked the ruin against the wall.

All he needed was Thorin, air to breathe, and art. Music.

No one wanted to allow him any of those.

A knock came on his door. "Vivaldi? Are you alright in there?"

"Fine," he muttered.

"Good, because there's a woman here to see you."

Vivaldi narrowed his eyes. "What woman?"

"Clarissa Montgomery. She has a meeting she wants you to attend."

"I'm not interested."

"I don't think it's negotiable."

Vivaldi wrenched his door open and scowled up at his mom. "I'm not interested in whatever it is you want me to attend this time–"

"It's not like that, Mr Perlman," said a voice from the other end of the hall. Clarissa Montgomery, presumably, a small woman with dark skin and glossy silver hair. "I'm afraid it is compulsory. All simulation survivors are required to attend."

Vivaldi frowned. "What's all this about?"

"I assure you, all will be explained. Come with me, please."

Marcellina Arnoult, 16

Marcellina still dreamed of those weeks in The Game. Because even though it might only have been an afternoon for everyone watching on in horror from the outside, it had been weeks for her. Weeks of suffering. Of watching others die. Hearing her best friend scream as the rebels dragged her away. Watching her be electrocuted in the sky.

Marcellina thought she would never be free of any of it.

The others had all lost people too. Siblings, friends, partners.

However much her parents tried, they were the only ones that understood her.

"I don't want to go," she said, staring through her window.

"Marci, the lady insists," said her dad.

"I don't want to go," she said again. Emeria would understand.

"I'm afraid it's not optional. Your presence is required," said the woman.

"I don't want to go."

"Marci." Her dad touched her shoulder. Whispered. "If you don't go, the peacekeepers will force you."

Marcellina stood. "Fine. Whatever. I'll go. Now?"

The woman smiled. "I have a car waiting."