A/N: Hi, and welcome to '75 Games: The Forgotten'! This story is a follow-up to my story, '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots'. For those of you who don't know, my first story told the tale of each of the 75 Hunger Games, with a chapter for each Games, told from the perspective of the victor each year. This story will also have 75 Chapters, one for each Games from the perspective of a tribute who didn't survive the Games.

I'd recommend reading the original story first, as they will give a first impression of each Hunger Games. This story is really meant to be filler material to pad out the Games in '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots', hopefully making them feel a little more real.

As with the original story, I'll be using songs on my iPod as inspiration for each chapter, and I'll be quoting the lyrics that inspired me and including the name of the song used in the chapter description below the author's notes.

Well, without further ado, let the Games begin!


"Please don't think I'm crazy

I don't want you to understand

My mind is growing hazy

To hell with your helping hand

Why don't you just leave me alone

This conflict is my own."

- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1989.


The 1st Annual Hunger Games

Duroc Mulefoot (18), District 10 Male (places 2nd)

Green Day - I Want To Be Alone (1989)


"No, you need to leave," I insist, pointing my sword at Vanity, the girl from District 1.

She looks up from the point of my sword into my eyes, a look of desperation upon her face.

"I just offered to be your ally," she pleads, but I'm not having any of it. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want to work alone," I reply coldly, and it's true. I've been betrayed once already in these Games, and if it wasn't for sponsor support, I'd already be dead.

"Surely you'd benefit from me? I've already killed in the Games." I'm almost one hundred percent sure that the girl's lying. She's barely older than fourteen and hasn't got any muscle on her. The only way that she could have killed would have been through underhanded tactics, and I don't know if I'd want someone who can be deceptive about their abilities as ally.

"So have I," I snap, pushing the side of my blade into her cheek. "I'll do it again if you don't leave me be."

For the first time the girl seems to falter, unsure of whether to continue pressing me or take her leave. If I was her, I know which one I'd choose. For a few moments, she does neither, and then I see her hand reach down towards her belt, and I see the glint of metal for the first time.

It's a split-second decision to pull back the sword and swing for her neck, just as I did with the boy from District 6 at the horn-shaped structure that held all the supplies a week ago. However, unlike when I killed the boy from Six, the blade jars horribly as it strikes her neck and ends up lodged within the girl's body. I let go of the sword in horror as she drops to the floor, unable to form a scream within her broken vocal chords. I look down at her, horrified, watching her blood pour into the grass around her. I have to stand on her shoulders to wrench the sword from her body, only to bring it back down onto her for the final blow.

The cannon, which I have learned to associate with the death of a tribute (it just confused me and scared me for the first couple of days) rings out across the arena almost immediately. I almost feel sorry for the girl, as I would've let her live if she hadn't forced my hand. She approached me peacefully, so I would've let her go peacefully, too. But she tried to get one over me, so I killed her.

I've already learnt the hard way that alliances cause nothing but trouble in the arena. I'm happy to stay a loner for a week or two if it means I can see all of my family again and live a long, untroubled life. The Capitol has promised the victor of the Hunger Games everything as a reward for surviving the artificial warzone named the arena. I was wrong to think for even a moment that a temporary alliance with Fraser, the eighteen-year-old from District 4, would bring anything but suffering. It could have been a great partnership, with mutual benefit. I was proud of the idea at first, working together to save each other, breaking apart on equal terms with a few tributes left alive or staying together until a noble fight as the last two alive.

But he double-crossed me, and attacked me and left me for dead just ten minutes into the Hunger Games. Maybe such a place as the arena is not one for nobility and honour. This is a place for survivalists, opportunists and murderers. I don't see my actions as murder personally, but I suppose they could be interpreted that way. It's not murder if both sides are prepared to fight to the death. It's never called murder in war, is it, so why should the Hunger Games be any different? Anyway, I have no time to question my actions when a split-second decision can make the difference between life and death. And in a fight or flight situation, I've never been one to run. I'm not a coward.

If I want to question my actions, I'll have time to do that once I'm safe and sound back home in District 10. For now, I have to do what ever it takes to survive.

Which brings me back to my current situation. I'm armed with a longsword, possibly the best weapon I could ask for, considering my physical prowess. I have enough food and water to last me at least another three or four days. And if and when that runs out, I know that I have sponsor support from the Capitol to help me survive. They're the ones who keep sending me medicine and ointments for my injured shoulder.

The, which is nearly all grassland, suits me well. There's little unknowns in this landscape, which is at least one factor that is permanently on my side. The only other obstacles are the other four tributes that still stand between me and home. The girl from District 3 and the boys from Four, Seven and Twelve. I know that the one to watch will be Fraser, the boy from District 4, who scored the highest of all of us in training, having gained a ten. Part of me wants him to be eliminated by either the arena or the other tributes before I reach him myself, but part of me wants us two to be the last two alive.

Then, and only then, with the whole of Panem watching as it was seven days ago, will I be able to exact my revenge upon him in its entirety.


A/N: So, what does everyone think of the idea behind this? I know it's essentially a continuation of the original story, so I hope it's able to hold your interests with the alternate perspectives that will be shown throughout this story.

Also, this story is a community project, where anyone who was a fan of '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots' can write a few chapters of this story themselves. Details of how to get involved are available on my profile page :)

I look forward to seeing what you can all come up with, and I hope that you all continue to like this story :)

GM97 :)