Chapter 1


"Problems worthy of attack prove their worth by fighting back."

-Paul Erdos

I knew what I was here to do. I knew what I was born to do. I knew what I was trained to do.

60 seconds.

As I look across the hard packed, dusty field, the only thing I think about is my weapon of choice. That's all I truly care about. I mean, why worry myself about death? There's no point. I'm not the one who's going to die. I was raised to do this, everything I had ever worked for, came down to this one moment. There was nothing I had to worry about-I was a Career.

Careers aren't afraid of anything. And being directly from District 1, there is nothing that I cannot do. I consider this Arena…something of a natural haven. I've grown so used to training that nothing here strikes fear into me. Perhaps the supposed sharpness of the blades; during our time at the Capitol, Cato told me how the blades farthest from the Cornucopia are blunter than those of that are deeper in. This worries me.

I'm going to have to get deep in there if I'm going to get a chance of obtaining a nice, sharp blade. I sigh to myself. Cato will probably take up all the space in his path of destruction, as he described to me back at the Capitol. If I know Cato, I know he's going to want to put on a great show-but I think I can do just as good.

I was quite good with a spear…yes I suppose I could make their deaths occur more quickly. I hate to limit my true potential, but in the Arena, you do whatever you have to do to survive.

30 seconds.

I take a look around at my victims. I yawn. A few tributes nearest to me look over at me; one even gulps. Cato looks over to me and nods; notifying all the Careers to meet up with him after the bloodbath. I smirk at him.

These tributes are nothing, absolutely nothing. I take a moment to look over at District 12. I see her eyeing the bow and arrows; my face contorts into disgust. I can't stand the drama they're trying to pull, I can see right through that crap. Who even has time for romance in the Arena?

I see Lover Boy shaking his head or something towards District 12. I smirk again. Lovers trying to save each other I see?

No chance. I won't let them have their moment, as a matter of fact, I'm going to make their death as painful and slow as possible. Especially District 12.

I'm going to enjoy spearing her through the heart.

10 seconds.

I make an effort to crack my knuckles and neck, appearing as if this is a day in the life for me.

Good, that's how I want to look. Then these pathetic tributes will stay out of my way, of course, they would be stupid enough to even go near me in the first place-which could prove a problem.

I'm going to have to waste my time and effort by hunting them all down one by one-damn. I didn't think the Arena would require such effort and patience. I sigh again.

5 seconds.

I emitted confidence, I seethed arrogance, and I made sure of it that everyone knew who I was. At the training center, I enforced my dominance over everyone at my station, and I made sure they knew who they were going up against. Many images of the impending bloodbath flash through my head; I imagine standing over the bloody carcass of District 12, one foot on her head and my fist raised high.

Then I imagine myself on the final day…

"Not bad!" I glance over at the clearly exhausted and blood drenched Career leader. Glimmer rests on a log to the side, her leg wounded heavily and her head bandaged with some kind of leaf. Clove leans on Cato, catching her breathe with a sadistic smile upon her face. We had just finished slaughtering Lover Boy, and I was sharpening my spear with a stone; blood falling off of the tip like thirst quenching raindrops.

There were four of us left, and we all knew what it had come down to. We dominated the Arena, just like we had predicted. I was cleaning the spear now with a rag obtained from the multitude of hoarded backpacks, taken from the Cornucopia on the first day. More than anything…I loved being a Career. It was like a real life cheat, a shortcut to victory.

And while I don't admonish taking the easy way out of life, I have to admit, I enjoyed the comfort of slaying all the tributes in my Career family.

Unfortunately, some families are dysfunctional. As if right on cue with my thoughts, Glimmer nocks an arrow and sends it careening toward Clove. It pierces her right through the heart.


I take advantage of the moment of surprise and pick up my spear and ready it for take off. Cato, now furious, looks like a charging bull, nostrils flaring and muscles tight. I have to be honest, he's quite scary to see when he's angry. But he's been angry so many times during the Games that I've become immune to his antics. I quietly run into the nearby brush and eye the scene. They have all forgotten about me! I smirk to myself.

Cato charges Glimmer with a drawn sword and slices her arm. She cries in pain but doesn't faulter. She swerves around him and chokes him from behind, climbing on his back and putting him in some kind of sleeper hold. He is so angry though, that it doesn't appear to affect him. He tips backward and suddenly drops on his back against the ground, crushing her. He quickly gets up and chokes her; she's a fighter though and punches him some more.

He sends her down again and draws an intimidating looking blade from his Cargo pants pocket. He sends it to her throat.


I don't hesitate. As Cato quietly relishes in his victory, I run out of the brush and send my spear soaring towards his back. "Gah!" he roars and then turns his head and glares at me with such anger that I think my blood might just have turned to ice. But I ignore it, and slowly walk over to his writhing form. He's a big guy, so he won't go down easily.

But I won't either, and I pick up Cato's fallen sword and swiftly make contact with his neck. The spear did a better job than I expected-the tip and about 8 inches more of wood protruded from his stomach. His neck was spurting blood and I could hear his struggled gasps accompanied by gurgles.

I sighed. I liked Cato, I enjoyed the friendship we had, the fatalaties made. We were something like brothers. I didn't relish in the death of tributes as much as Cato or Clove did; I'll admit that I wanted to get the job done without any mess; I wasn't crazy. Oh well. I tip Cato to the side with my boot and take out the spear from his body. I almost puked at the sight, but there was no turning back. Let's not make the guy suffer….


"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the victor of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, tribute from District 1-Marvel Quaid!"

My thoughts revert to present time, and I am renewed with a burst of confidence and fury. I find myself shaking with adrenaline and excitement. This is nothing. I've got this.

The gong roars and I make my way to my spear, and my victory…

A/N: This is the first of an upcoming series. I am all for constructive criticism; I'm a new writer so I need all the advice I can get. It's short but that's the point. Hoping to increase length of stories little by little until I get some full length ones going during the Summer. Stay tuned. Glimmer's POV to come.