Author note: Welcome to the Huntley High School first ever "125th annual Hunger Games". This was something I did at my school in honor of the Hunger Games movie coming out. Students across the school filled out bio forms for their own made up characters, turned them into my school's librarian, then I got them from her. (I see no one, I don't know who did who except by deduction.) I actually got 24 on the nose, so all the contestants were made by someone else. These are the results.
To those who entered the games and are just saying, "GET ON WITH IT!" right now, I must say I really enjoyed your characters mostly, and this Hunger Games was fantastic to write. I hope I did your characters justice. (If I didn't I apologize)
This takes place in an alternate universe sort of thing in the distant future of Panem where there was Katniss and Peeta. (NOOOOOOO!)
I do not own the concept of the Hunger Games or most of these characters who belong to their respective owners…
Part 1: Selecting the Tributes.
President Rain, a man whose appearance is comparable to the Monopoly man, steps up to the podium in front of the presidential mansion. Columns rise about him ominously, further dwarfing the man who seems to be completely out of place in his position, unlike his great-grand father President Snow. His glassy eyes dart nervously about the crowd and press that stand before him and he gives a smile as though he might faint.
He licks his lips and looks down at the note card, reading woodenly "It is that time of year again when all of Panem joins together in honor of the Hunger Games. As all of you know…"
As he reads the history of Panem and how the districts rebelled against the Capitol and were quickly put down, his voice moves faster and faster like steam releasing from a tea kettle. It is apparent that no one minds, as they are all eager for the reading of the Quarter Quell rules. Finally a young boy brings in a box and he pulls a yellowing envelope with the number 125 on it. He licks his lips again (They are quickly growing chapped) and opens the envelope.
"On the one hundred and twenty fifth anniversary" he reads, "As a reminder to the rebels that the Capitol's wrath knows no bounds. The tributes for the games shall be chosen from a pool of every eligible child from the districts until the proper amount of the tributes have been chosen."
The crowd at the capitol roars. But within the districts there is an odd mingling of relief and trepidation. A pool of every child means the chances of any one child being selected are far slimmer. Their entire district could be spared. On the other hand, there was no limit to how many children any district could be giving up…
It was decided that Monique Morea (The beautiful and opulent capitol woman who had long since taken over for Effie Trinket) would be the one to stand on the steps of the Presidential mansion with what looked to be the largest steel bingo sphere ever created with thousands upon thousands of papers whirling inside. Behind her was a large screen that showed live video feed from the districts at that moment. All over Panem children and teenagers stood at attention, their faces washed with trepidation.
Monique smiled prettily and greeted the crowd. "Happy hunger Games all. With me I have the name of every eligible tribute across all 12 districts. As I call each name you will see on the screen behind me the tribute from each district step forward or, if they are particularly excited to join in the adventure of the Hunger Games, volunteer for another member of their own district." She giggled. Nearly every citizen of the districts cringed visibly. "Now let us begin. And to our tributes watching back in your districts – may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Monique reached into the caged sphere, groping about in the tempest of papers. Finally she grasped one and read it in a strong, delighted voice.
"Draken Gardone, District 7."
A lean but muscular16 year old boy with a black, bowl-cut hairstyle stepped forward, a sort of calm painted on his face. One would be hard pressed to find any dread in his gait as he mounted the steps to the stage. Most did not notice his eyes travel quickly to the girl's section and then away, nor the note of pain that entered them as he passed. As he stood upon the steps he swallowed hard, still not allowing any fear or mourning to bubble up to the surface. He would allow being the sacrifice. He would allow it as long as the one person he had left to protect was there to bid him farewell, that she would still be here when he was gone, and maybe, just maybe, be there when he returned.
"Fabio Tveit, District 8"
A smaller boy of 15, with dirty blonde bangs swooped across his face seemed to be frozen. A boy beside him gently urged him forward and he walked to the stage, his face pale as snow. He could hear somewhere in the crowd his mother wail in distress. When he reached the stage he turned, staring into the crowd that stared at him. He gulped then smiled bravely and struck a pose that Finnick Odyair had often struck in posters. A timid sort of laugh rustled across the crowd.
"Ginger Locust, District 1"
A 17 year old boy of blonde hair and blue eyes, nearly 7 feet tall, strode forward. The tanned muscles in his arms seemed to involuntary flex as he stood before the crowd. He noted, looking in the crowd, that her mother seemed to be half asleep on her feet (drunk obviously). He swept his gaze over the other boy tributes. He spotted his brother, Trey, and seeing his trepidation gave a single curt nod.
"Torn Mar, District 11"
A 15 year old boy with black hair and brown eyes clenched his fist. Beside him he heard Djinn's intake of breath and could feel his eyes on him. He met his gaze only for a moment then shook his head, an ironic smirk tugging at his lips. He walked to the stage, the look disappearing. He ignored the looks of people he passed. He would change those looks he received… they would look upon him with respect.
"Aqua, District 4"
A tall 17 year old girl's dark eyes widened. Her limbs froze, as though injected with cement. She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. For a moment she pretended she was by the ocean, standing on a cliff. With every step she took forward she took another stroke further and further out to sea. To a place where the Capitol was not. To a place where sand and foam mingled and she was free. Free.
"Grain Daniels, District 11"
The word "no" rose to the lips of a boy of 17 with shaggy blonde hair, bleached from the sun. His golden brown eyes darted to his father who stared back at him from the crowd. His limbs twitched with the urge to run to him, to take him and escape. But his father gave a brief nod. He swallowed, resigned, and walked to the stage.
"Asher Kritt, District 11"
A boy of 16 with brown hair had seen the previous tribute's silent exchange with his father and turned sharply out of his revere about his own unknown father. He did not understand at first. How could it be that he just saw someone beside him go and now it would be him? He saw his mother, carried by some neighbors who'd took pity on such an ill woman. He couldn't move. "ASHER KRITT." A peacemaker shouted, "COME FORWARD" He walked forward, unable to tear his eyes away from his mother's.
"Julia Jackson, District 4"
A 15 year old girl with sky blue eyes and blonde bangs falling over her right eye's jaw tightened for a moment. She walked forward, not stumbling or in a daze like other tributes had done. She strode, no, she strut toward the stage. When she reached it she turned toward the faces of her peers. Some jeered, some held some sort of pity. She tossed back her bangs, giving the crowd and the viewers an eyeful of her scarred, unseeing right eye and gave a smirk that would make the largest ox fall to its knees in fear.
"Henrietta Hothorn, District 7."
A 16 year old girl with icy blonde hair raised her dull grey eyes in shock and bewilderment. She heard her brother shout, "No!" somewhere to her left. She looked around, not understanding. Beside her a 12 year old whispered tearfully, "That means you, I think." She shakily walked forward, her thoughts rushing around her head like a whirl pool. Images of her brother limping home alone after work in the lumberyard mingled with statistics about the games she'd read in various books. In the midst of these thoughts one thought rose to the surface. A thought of regret that one of the few times her name was called to be included with her peers was for this.
"Tristan Kane, District 8"
A tall, 18 year old boy with shaggy brown hair, hazel eyes, and a roman nose paled as he walked forward. As he walked forward he caught the gaze of some of his friends. Their stunned expressions seemed pained. He gave a weak grin, as if this was all part of something they'd joke about any day of the week. He took the stage, nodding to the smaller tribute but guarding his eyes. He'd seen the boy in the window of a dress shop before. He'd seemed friendly enough, but he now had to keep his distance. He was a stranger and a competitor now.
[A/N: Quick annotation, the character bio form for this guy actually said he was 19. You actually have to be up to 18 to be in the Hunger Games I think. So I just bumped it down one. Sorry to this author if I messed up any timeline to your character's life or something…]
"Sybella Hyavukp, District 7"
A 16 year old girl with pale blue eyes and thin black hair that contrasted sharply with her pale skin inhaled quickly in disbelief as the name pulled her from her thoughts. She'd been thinking about how she could get her boss to give her a little extra money to pay the good doctor from a town over to come and visit her mother. Now she couldn't seem to think anything but, "Who's going to pay for it now?" Every step came a new question. Would her father and mother survive without her? Could her aunts or uncles spare anything extra? When she reached the stage she turned and saw, toward the front of the crowd, her entire family, standing as close to each other as the many threads that made up a cloth. The sight strengthened her. Even if she could not trust fate, surely she could trust them.
"Amadeus Cho, District 3"
A slightly lanky 15 year old boy stepped forward. His features were Asian and his hair was black. He quickly rearranging his expression to an expression of raised superiority that gave no trace of his pounding heart. Why should his heart pound? Looking at the previous entries it was obvious none had his intellect. He doubted if any following would either. He should have volunteered in the first place. He strode forward, letting anyone who dared catch his eye.
"Lobellia Belarus, District 11"
A girl of 14 with dark chocolate eyes and matching waist length hair adorned with bright pink flowers seemed to struggle to keep her face composed. She walked forward. For some odd reason she thought of Asher Kritt and Grain Daniels, how their eyes so quickly found love ones in the crowd. She wondered if there was anyone in that crowd who would know her, who would think, "That is my child, my daughter." Even if she would never know who they were or that they thought it in the first place. But for now she could imagine that somewhere someone knew who she was.
"Buhayín Tiwala, District 4"
A black-haired boy of 17 marched to the stage. His olive-tan features held more excitement than fear. As he took his place beside the female tributes on the stage he threw a grin in their direction, muttering, "You'd best keep up." The dark haired one gave a strained sort of grin in return. The blonde haired one frowned and looked forward. He turned back to the crowd, the grin still draped across his face. Now it was his time. He would be the next victor.
"SilverGold, District 12"
A 15 year old girl with long, curly, dirty blonde hair and bangs swept to the side had been smiling to a friend of hers over the lack of district 12 tributes, whispering that perhaps the Capitol had forgotten them in this as well. The smile seemed to freeze on her face as she turned her gaze slowly to the stage where the peacekeepers watched her impatiently. She heard her 12 year old sister scream nearby and the sound of her being held back by some of the older girls. Her friend had a look of plastered on horror as well. She reached out and squeezed her hand before turning to the stage. Her air was that of stunned silence as she walked. All the while she clutched the pin with the claw on the front of her dress. "So much for good luck, mother…" She muttered.
"Ana Skree, District 1"
A 15 year old girl with wolf-like grey eyes and dull brown hair had a hard expression on her face. She walked silently to the stage and looked over the crowd. Her eyes challenged the crowd and all the other districts to defy her as her father had told her to do the day she took this stage. She raised her chin and scanned the crowd, not acknowledging her fellow tribute. The crowd seemed to emanate their approval of such a tribute. She caught her father's gaze. He seemed to be nodding his approval as well. "Are you satisfied, father?" Her mind raged against him, "I'm the killing machine you always desired." She said none of this, but maintained her air of vicious silence. Well, she decided, at least this saved her the deception of having to volunteer as though she truly desired to be there.
"Arthur Kirkland, District 9"
A 17 year old boy with shaggy golden blonde hair clenched his jaw walked toward the stage. He held his head high, refusing to look weak. He would not let any of them think he needed their pity or assistance. He did not let his expression falter even when his walk took him past his two young brothers. He wavered, but only for a moment, wondering who would care for them now when they'd looked to no one but him for so long. But he swallowed hard and said with a gentle intensity, "I'll be back. Just wait for me." He strode forward, knowing that if there was one thing he could give them, if not food and direct care, then a role model. He would teach them, even from so many miles away, not to be afraid.
"Sym Incantia, District 7"
A 16 year old girl with short black hair seemed to gulp, but kept her eyes on the stage, trying not to catch her father's eye. She wasn't sure if she could manage keeping her composure if she did. Instead she looked up at the only male tribute of the District. For the first time pain became evident in his expression. She held his gaze as she walked up the steps and until she came to stand beside him. She gave him a small smile that wavered like a flag in an oncoming storm. She only allowed herself this long before turning to the crowd, her hands folded before her, and the smile still etched on her face. After a moment she felt him turn back to the crowd as well.
"Montana Rune, District 10"
A young girl of 12 with clear eyes clutched the hand of her older sister, shaking her head furiously. Two peace keepers advanced toward her, ready to move her to the stage. Nearby an 18 year old boy with long, curly blonde hair with a hint of dark brown growled under his breath. Once again the Capitol was to take the life of an innocent child. Not if he had anything to say about it. He broke from the crowd and placed himself between the girl and the peacekeepers. They narrowed their eyes. "Move aside." One barked.
"I volunteer." He snarled.
The peacekeeper looked him up and down and sneered. "Fine. It'll be nice to get rid of you. You're more trouble than you're worth."
The boy turned back to the quivering little girl. The comparison between the two was tremendous. She was small, a wisp of a girl. He towered over her at 6' 3 and 243 lbs. She seemed only capable of mouthing, "Thank you."
He gave her a kind smile and said gently, "It's nothing m'lady."
He turned and walked to the stage, his mind reeling between thoughts of the life he'd saved and the lives he might take. He had to do it for her… but wasn't their some other way? In the crowd around him there were rustled chants of, "Big Blue… Big Blue…" He wondered if John, shy as he was at work started it. Or maybe Dulcinea, she might do this for him. Or even little Signa. That gave him enough strength when he came to stand at the stage and was asked his name to say in a clear voice,
"Kalf Cristobal Sutherland, District 10"
"Aponelle Grimmick, District 4"
An attractive girl of 17 with green eyes and sun-bleached hair swayed a little on her feet. She'd been so lost in the moment of watching that innocent girl's tortured expression and the gratefulness for the other boy's chivalry she had forgotten that there were still 6 more tributes to pick, and that district 4 seemed to be a popular choice. The voice that summoned her to the stage seemed to be an echo of the dreams that had plagued her for so long. It felt as though the images rolling past her, her distressed friends, her mourning family, the peacemakers, were all things she'd seen before. They allowed her to reel in any panic and smile charmingly for the cameras. If she was going to win sponsors she'd best start now.
"Italiannah, District 12"
A 14 year old girl with rich tan skin and coal black hair caught back with a purple hair tie into a tight pony-tail gasped. Her sea foam green eyes had already began filling with tears as she had, only a few tributes earlier watched one of her best friends walk up to the stage. She walked forward in a daze, trying not to let her tears fall. In the fog of her mind she could not hear her sister scream and have to be held back from running to her, possibly by her mother, possibly the peacemakers. She tried not to imagine it, tried to work up a smile for her, for her mother and father. That was what she could offer them. When she took her place beside her fellow tribute she felt her reach out her hand and she took it. She hadn't wanted them to be separated, now she was getting her wish.
"Cruor Aviditas, District 9"
The red eyes of an 18 year old boy snapped up to the stage. His pallid features displayed no hint of surprise or despair. He flicked a strand of ghost white hair out of his face and walked to the stage. He wondered for a moment how his death would size up against the deaths of his ancestors. He visualized the various executions for crimes they had committed and compared it to what could be his impending demise for the crimes of long gone rebels. Perhaps this time, he thought turning to the crowd, He too would become a legend.
"Lily Madelyn Fisher, District 4."
A girl of 16 with medium length wavy auburn hair stepped forward, clutching her necklace in her first, fingering the head of the little turtle that made the charm. "LILY, NO!" She turned in time to see her father wrap his arms around her ten year old brother, preventing him from rushing out to her. Tears were streaming down his face, "I volunteer! I volunteer!" He cried.
Two peacekeepers were beginning to descend upon him. One raised a club to strike him. She shrieked and propelled herself forward, clinging to the peacekeepers arms. "Stop, leave him alone! I'll go now. Just, please…"
The peacekeepers escorted her forward under more strict watch. She gave one last brave smile to her little brother before turning to the stage again.
"And finally, Luna O'Shea, District 11"
The crowd seemed to let out a groan as the pretty girl of 14 walked forward. She was small, only a little over 100 lbs or so with blue eyes and thick blonde hair tied into a pony tail. She gnawed her lip as the crowd buzzed about her like Trackerjackers. Her steps were swaying, as though she might fall at any moment as she walked past the rest of the, now safe, children. She began to sink to her knees when a hand caught her by the forearm and held her up. Jared Newberry was gazing at her, his eye brows knitted in concern. Her face went red as she straightened up and walked quickly to the front. She discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes before she met the roaring, discontent crowd and the scrutinizing eyes of the capitol.
Monique Morea smiled daintily as shots of the 24 tributes flashed across the screen. "There you have it ladies and gentlemen. Our tributes have been chosen. Now, the fun can truly begin!"
End Part 1