Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, as you might have guessed.

The Insert Really Big Number Here Games

A/N: Hello. This is just another one of those nth games fics. Because clearly there aren't enough of them in the HG fandom. But it's more of a parody than anything else. The prologue just clears up some issues with canon, and then in the later chapters you'll meet the lovely tributes. It'll (probably) get better in the later chapters.

Enjoy. :)

Prologue

In which the Narrator ignores logic, a explanation for why the Hunger Games have continued for so long is hastily made up, and things are dramatic and stuff.

A gust of wind dramatically blew through the room. The only source of light in the room, a candle flame, flickered, causing the shadows in the room to begin to dance crazily, creating mysterious shapes that quickly morphed into, well, mysterious shapes, but slightly different ones. It was extremely unnerving and very dramatic and stuff, and drew a sigh from the lone figure in the room, bent over a desk and writing frantically.

"I've closed all the windows, Narrator," Katniss pointed out, not bothering to look upwards, "so no breezes would have been able to get in here. And I didn't have any beans today, either, if you were thinking about explaining it that way."

The shadows morphed into something that looked like "FU LOGIC", before the wind died down and they settled back into their original positions.

Katniss wrote.

And wrote.

And wrote.

And wrote.

You get the point.

The Narrator got bored of copying and pasting the same sentence again, and decided to do some exposition. But not before making a wolf howl chillingly in the distance, because, you know, it's dramatic and stuff.

It was about six months after the 74th Hunger Games, and the odds were definitely not in Katniss's favor.

Haymitch had vanished a couple of weeks ago, and Peeta had as well; concerned friends had broken into their houses after noticing their lack of presence around District 12. Each time, they had found their beds in the same state (well, sort of, as in Haymitch didn't have a "TOP SECRET!" diary beneath his pillow, whose owner, according to the book, was a Mr Peeta Everdeen love-heart love-heart). There had been signs of a struggle, and a single rose.

But no Haymitch. And no Peeta.

It was obvious what had happened. The Capitol had been angered by Peeta and Katniss' actions in the arena, and instead of, you know, letting them live and perhaps instigate a rebellion and overthrow the Capitol, they had taken the wise decision to make them vanish instead.

Katniss didn't know what had happened to her mentor, nor her fake-boyfriend-maybe-real-boyfriend-oh-I-don't-know-but-basically-a-third-of-the-mandatory-love-triangle-in-young-adult-books. Maybe torture. Perhaps death. Perchance torture and then death. Probably torture and death and then reanimating their corpses and torturing them again. What she did know was that she was next; the Hunger Games had honed her imma-gonna-get-killed senses.

So what could she do? She'd thought and thought and thought, taking a few breaks to angst over her life and why it had to suck so hard, before coming onto a solution.

She would write books. She'd write one detailing her experiences in the 74th Hunger Games. But not just that. She'd also write two more books, about what could have happened afterwards, to emphasize just how terrible her world was, though she couldn't help but be a bit optimistic about what could have happened. When she had finished the three books, she would send them into the past, so that people would read them and understand the warning that she was giving them, in hope that they would prevent the Hunger Games from actually starting in the first place.

It was a nonsensical plan, but by now Katniss was slightly insane.

"Hey! I heard that!" Katniss complained.

But it was understandable. Having the maybe-love of your life taken away and fearing for your life had the ability to make anyone insane. Seriously insane. Like, acknowledging-the-Narrator-of-your-story-and-breaking-the-fourth-wall-insane. Which is pretty insane.

Katniss returned back to her writing. She was starting to finish the last book now, which she'd named Mockingjay. Maybe a couple of hours, and she'd be completely done, and somehow send it to the past-

Crash!

Her head jerked up. No! They'd come! And she hadn't finished! Frantically, she scribbled down one more page to hurriedly conclude the book. She didn't like it too much. It was too rushed, she didn't manage to tie up every loose end, but it would have to do-

BANG!

The door to her room crashed open.

Whispering a prayer, Katniss closed her eyes for the last time.

All was quiet in the room where Katniss had been writing. The candle burnt lower and lower until the flame completely flickered out.

It was dark.

That's when a octarine-colored time portal, created by Katniss' desperation and Narrativium, appeared, sucked the books that she'd written into it, and deposited them sometime in the past.

Eventually, Katniss' work was published in the past. People enjoyed the books, so much that movies were made. So maybe Katniss' plan would work. Maybe everyone would be so aghast at the atrocious acts in these books that they would promise never to begin such a game.

Juuuuuust kidding.

Long after the popularity of the books had diminished, the world turned into a nightmare. Supplies were running out, and there were wars. Lots of them. For a while Municipal Darwinism was established, and then - guess what - there were more fighting and battles and changes.

Until one day, a group stumbled upon an ancient book. It was written in some kind of old language, and its state wasn't the best, but they managed to translate it. "The Hunger Games", its title read.

They loved the plot. What an excellent idea! What a fantastic way of controlling the population, to pit their children against each other in an arena, and watch them die! Of course, due to the luck of the human race, this absolutely lovely group of people eventually took over the world, and the Hunger Games were implemented.

They were a massive success. Of course, occasionally, the games did not run quite so smoothly. For example, the pickle incident in the 23rd one. As well as that one, there were little hints of a rebellion brewing around the 74th games that were held, but since the president decided to kill the perpetrators, effectively quashing it.

And so the games went on and on and on and on, so long that people just started calling each year's game the one with a really big number, since the actual value would have taken five days of continuous reading to say entirely.

And so now, we reach this year's games. It promises to be one full of action, adventure, death, the occasional llama, Eon Pigs, other muttations, death, dramatic love stories, bananas, lack of pickles, drama, pet rocks, rivalries, and death.

Stay tuned!