Just a quick note on all the tributes before I begin so you can keep track of everyone :
District 1: Evan Fong and Jonathan Smith
District 2: Anthony Chilled and Steven Ze
District 3: Craig Thompson and Tyler Wilde
District 4: David Nogla and Ryan Ohm
District 5: Bryce McQuaid and John Kryoz
District 6: Ryan Smitty and Adam Montoya
District 7: Luke Patterson and Mark Johnson
District 8: Cody Racing and Max Gassy
District 9: Scotty Seven and Anthony Panda
District 10: Brian Hanby and Brock Snuckel
District 11: Marcel Work and Jay Blue
District 12: Lui Calibre and Arlan Droid
If you are unfamiliar with the Hunger Games universe, just a warning that this may not be for the faint of heart. Thanks, hope you enjoy.
***
"Welcome to the 100th annual reaping for the Hunger Games. Now, as we all know this isn't just any old Hunger Games, this is a Quarter Quell, only male tributes will be selected. May the odds be ever in your favour."
If Evan was from any other district, his heart would be in his feet and his blood would run cold. However, living in District 1 has it's perks. Training for the Hunger Games from a young age puts the district at a high chance for winning. Plus the overall wealth of the district, it is by far the best one to live in. Evan had no fear of being selected from the bowl, his only worry was that someone would volunteer in his place.
Evan was a large man, he spent hours upon hours training for the games, which had lead to the muscle mass on his arms, torso, and legs. He often had attention from the local girls, but he never reciprocated that affection. He just didn't see the appeal many of the other guys found in the girls.
Evan tended to stick to his best friend, Jonathan. Jonathan was several inches shorter than Evan, but was still very strong from his training. Jon was no where in sight at the morning's reaping, he was blocked by other meatheads from the district.
The woman in a frilly green dress approaches the bowl full of male names, and draws the first slip of paper. Her heels clack back over to the microphone as she unfolds the fateful paper.
"Noah Grayson," the shrill voice announced.
"I volunteer!" Evan shouted immediately afterwards. He stepped forward, waving his right arm in the air. He took steady steps towards the platform, Peacekeepers on either side of him. He mounted the platform and smiled at the cheering crowd. He waved out to everyone.
"And your name is?" Asked the announcer, tapping her foot.
"Evan Fong," the Asian man answered, smiling widely.
"Congratulations to our first volunteer in this annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour, Evan," the lady smiled again. She gestured to where Evan could stand, leading him away from the microphone.
"And for our next tribute," she continued, drawing another slip of paper.
Evan was not naive, he knew how easy it was to die in these games, and the mental effects it left on the victors, but he believed he could conquer. He was already forming a strategy, to team up with the other career districts and eliminate the rest of the competition.
He looked out over the crowd, some faces proud and others worried, petrified. They had no reason to be worried though, someone is bound to volunteer in their place in a district such as this one.
When the lady read out the next slip of paper and no one volunteered, Evan's heart finally dropped. That slip of paper resigned the fate of a certain boy with fluffy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. It condemned their friendship, their love.
"Jonathan Smith."
***
Craig Thompson could barely breathe. The air was smothering, sour, trying to keep him from functioning as a normal human being. However, this was different from the normal panic attack, Craig could be sent to die within the next five minutes. The crowds were closing in on him, squishing him up against an acquaintance, Tyler Wilde. Tall, handsome, and mysterious Tyler Wilde, keeping Craig smitten since his they first met at school.
Tyler towered over Craig, his muscular build blocking out the morning rays, keeping Craig from frying under the heat. Craig was not as muscular as Tyler, in fact he was sometimes called scrawny by his least favourite peers from school. Craig felt his arm brush deliciously against Tyler's sun kissed skin.
Craig's head whipped forward to face the stage instead of his crush. His hazel eyes landed on a man in a sharp suit with green, curled hair. The man unraveled a slip of paper from the bowl, the crinkling sounds echoed across the District 3 plaza.
The man cleared his deep voice before reading the name off the paper, "Tyler Wilde."
Next to Craig, Tyler sharply exhaled before making his way through the crowd to reach the stage. Tyler's shoulders were still, but Craig knew he was trying to hide his panic. Craig was also trying to hide his own panic. Statistically, Tyler was not likely to return to District 3 victorious, and Craig would have to continue living his life without the angelic presence of Tyler.
"Congratulations Tyler, may the odds be ever in your favour," the man boomed, "now, let us find your partner."
The man drew another fateful slip from the glass bowl. Before opening the paper he flicked the slip and blew on it. He uncurled the paper and read out the name on it.
"Craig Thompson." Silence followed, except for Craig's frantically beating heart. No, no that couldn't be right. There must be a mistake. Against his will, Craig's feet began to move forward. He felt like screaming and crying, but his mind was telling him to not show weakness. From now on, weakness is death.
Craig shuffled up to the stage and approached the announcer. The announcer grabbed Tyler and Craig's hands, raised them, then bowed.
"Congratulations to this years tributes from District 3, and may the odds be ever in your favour," the man finished with a flick of his green locks.
The man escorted Craig and Tyler away from the cheering crowd, their happiness of not being reaped began to drown out Craig's worried thoughts. Craig and Tyler were separated and put into different rooms to say their goodbyes to their family and friends. As Craig's family filtered in and out of the room, he could barely keep his focus.
Everything seemed blurry, like someone stuffed cotton buds into his ears. Craig's family hugged him, leaving him feeling disorientated as he waited in the room for the peacekeepers to come and retrieve him. While Craig sat, tapping his foot, a sickening thought washed over him.
There were three outcomes: Craig would perish and Tyler would survive, Tyler would die and Craig would have to live his life without Tyler, or they would both die in these games. Each thought made Craig feel like breaking down and crying.
***
Ryan glanced around the plaza full of possible tributes, those awaiting their fate or their glory. Many would not succeed, Ryan knew this, they had not put in enough effort as he did over the years of training. District 4 was not as likely to win as District 1 or 2, but it still stood a fair chance, especially now that Ryan was going to volunteer. He was going to win the games for his District, it had been a long time since they had done so.
The first slip was drawn, and announced. Ryan was on edge, ready to volunteer, to gamble his life in the Games.
"Andrew Robbin!"
"I volunteer!" Ryan's mouth was open, but it was not his voice that escaped. Instead, it belonged to a man several metres over.
Ryan observed this man as he walked to the platform. He was tall and thin, looked like he could be knocked over in a strong wind. He had a mop of black hair atop his angular head, framing green eyes and a sly smirk. Ryan could see how he may be popular with the ladies, but he will not be popular in the Games.
"What's your name, son?"
"David Nogla," a heavily accented, deep voice boomed proudly.
David was not a man Ryan recognised. He might have seen him vomiting once or twice at training from over exertion, but Ryan had never held a proper conversation with the gangly man. Quite frankly, he was glad he never had, he didn't need a district partner like David dragging him down.
Before he knew it, another slip had been drawn and was about to be announced. Ryan came back into focus, determined to be the first one to volunteer.
"Keith Hendringson."
"I volunteer!" Ryan shouted. He took quick, heavy strides towards the stage, towards his glory. Towards his chance to reclaim his district and rise to fame.
He will win. He knows it.
"And what's your name, boy?"
"Ryan Ohm."
"Well congratulations, Ryan Ohm and David Nogla. Congratulations on becoming this years tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favour," the man ended the ceremony before making the newly appointed tributes bow to their district.
Even though the Games begin in a week's time, the fight begin now. Ryan needs to put as much effort as possible into making himself look good...and David look terrible. That wouldn't be to hard to do, just look at the man! He could barely walk without tripping over his own two feet.
These were the types of traps Ryan had to look for. The underdogs, the ones that are putting on a facade to not attract attention. Even without having a conversation with him, David struck Ryan as the type of guy to be too unintelligent to have such a deceptive plan. Ryan had to watch his back, not get attached to the other tributes or his future allies (that shouldn't be too difficult, he thought), and to be constantly vigilant.
Most importantly, Ryan knew to trust no one.