The 76th Annual Hunger Games

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I know so many of you are going to snicker at one particular word.....HoverBros. That's what we (me and my partner) planned to call the hovercrafts. And I REALLY want to know if you root for any ships....I do. And if you love this little short roleplay.....vote, comment, and reccomend! Enjoy!!!

Vincent stood in the district center, staring up at the stage. It was Reaping Day again, and the gray-haired boy was all but enthusiastic. His name had only been entered about four times, so he wasn't worried. The Capitol person finally made her way to the stage. She waved gracefully, gave a speech, and turned to the past Victors who had assembled behind her. There were about twenty. The entire crowd held their breath as she turned back and reached into the large ball holding the girl's names. Juniper Sails. Everyone cheered as the girl made her way to the stage, but several girls stepped in an volunteered instead. Holly Williams was chosen instead. As the woman reached into the boy's holder of papers, Vincent leaned forward, praying it wouldn't be him. But it was. His blood ran cold as the crowd parted to let him through. Someone will volunteer, he thought, trying to calm himself. Vincent stood before the crowd, scanning the boys side for anyone willing to take his place. Why wasn't anyone saying anything? He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Did they hate him that much?

Zakia grumbled, she hated Reaping day. Her hair was up in a pony tail. A bright and vibrant colored flower that was popular in trade adorned her lovely hair. She looked around. She had passed by the blood prick area. Her mother smiled weakly. It wasnt likely she would get picked but they didnt doubt that fact. She had no family to come back for, so dying in the Hunger Games seemed reasonable for her. The lady picked a name out of the girls glass bowl. The name paralyzed her. Zakia Grintel . She had been called. Nobody had a clue who she was, no volunteers. She walked up to the stage, adrenaline coursing.

The next few days involved train rides, fancy food, training, "beautifying", and lots of smiling for Vincent. He hated all of the cameras pointed at him, watching his every move as he spoke with the talk show host. Although, he admitted, the food was very good. He'd been raised on fish and other seafood, so things like beef, pork, and chicken were all new to him, and tastes fantastic. The Chariots were interesting, but his outfit made him look like a sexualized Poseidon. The other tributes looked slightly threatening, especially the Careers, and Vincent made a mental note to join them as soon as possible. He spoke briefly with them in the training room, and demonstrated his powerful arms by tossing weights and spears. When the assessment came around, he did the same for the Capitol people. The night before the Hunger Games, came all too quickly. Vincent lay on his bed, frustrated with it all. He really didn't want to fight, despite his District's legacy. It still bothered him that not one of his friends had stepped up to take his place. They had been so excited about it, too. Sighing, Vincent rolled over and tried his best to sleep.

Zakia refused to eat anything but bread. The Capitol had no soul. They had so much food and spared none to the starving districts. Her designer made her look like a phoenix in comparison to Katniss (The Girl on Fire) and a MockingJay. She made no friends in the training area. Nobody seemed appealed to her. Day before the Hunger Games, she feared for her life. No alliances. She looked at the boy next to her. The boy chosen from District 12 was her bully. She shied away from him.

Then came the dreaded day. Blood roaring in his ears, Vincent stepped into the pod that would take him into the Arena. He tried to stood his trembling hands. Looking back, he saw his mentor standing behind him, grinning. "You'll be great, kid!" He reassured, giving him a thumbs up. Vincent smiled awkwardly and nodded. The clear glass door slid shut, and the platform rose up to the floor of the Arena. Vincent screwed his eyes shut and against the blinding light. He couldn't see a thing.

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