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The Last Hunger
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The Last Hunger
The Last Hunger Games.
So, I've been toying around with this idea for quite a while now, and I think it's time I started doing it.
Some people might say that the 73rd Hunger Games were the last true Hunger Games. Everything worked according to plan.
Some people might say that the 74th Hunger Games were the last Hunger Games. Everything mostly went according to plan.
Some people might say that the 75th Hunger Games were the last Hunger Games, even though it went down the drain..
But a few say differently
A few say that the last Hunger Games were the Hunger Games with the Capitol children. Sure, the rules were very different, and nothing was quite the same, but it was the last Hunger Games.
___________________
So, who wants to do it with me?
Your charrie can be just about any age under about 21, there is no district attached, I think we'll use 24 tributes, and yeah. There'll be a training center, but no interviews or such. They'll get three days to get themselves into shape, and then they'll be thrown in. For the arena, because it said at the end of Mockingjay that the arenas were all destroyed, I think this would have to be held before then, and we'll use the one from the 50th Hunger Games. But still only 24 tributes, and there won't be nearly as many mutts. And they'll downsize the arena.
_____________
Mine:
Name: Venen Vis Snow (Venenum is poison, vis is force) Mostly called Venen, but occa
Gender: Female
Age: 14
Relation to important Capitol person: Well, duh. President Snow's granddaughter.
Appearance: Brown hair, gray eyes. Tall.
Personality: She's not dumb. She's Snow's granddaughter, of course she's not stupid. Pretty aware of the way things work.
Physical: She's not fat or weak, but she's not skinny or patiucarly strong either.
___________
Should be fun.
submitted by SC, age gone
(November 22, 2011 - 3:10 pm)
(November 22, 2011 - 3:10 pm)
Omjuice I love Lyn's daddy's name. Thanks! :D
Oh, and I finally caught up on my NaNo word count, so I'm taking a bit of a break. Bedtime's in ten minutes though so I might not be able to write much.
@SuzyQ: THG isn't really for 15+. It's not bad like Breaking Dawn or The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (mon parents watched the movie while I was writing). It's a bit violent in one or two parts and there's a bit of romance, but nothing that a mature 8 y.o. can't handle. ;)
//Lyn//
I blinked.
This was not fun. This was not exciting. I didn't feel the anticipation and bloodlust the Careers probably felt from previous seasons. I didn't feel like I would win.
I knew some of the Tributes. One practiced archery as a sport and was rather good. Another was trained to survive courtesy of her Gamekeeper father. Another had been training in secret, partly in my area- my apartment was in a quiet area. Another was the Charge of the Peacekeepers' son.
I am the daughter of a Gamekeeper. One who was and still is never home. One who probably doesn't even know my name. And my mother was one of those stupid Capitol fashion monkeys.
The Enclave is my family.
I can wield a gun, but there are never any of those in the Games. That's it. And I can run.
Hopefully the others can't. I doubt it though.
...and it's a minute past btime. Hopefully my parents don't notice. :P Ciao!
(November 27, 2011 - 9:30 pm)
Poppy-
"Poppy!" my dad calls. I put down the knives I'd been throwing. "Yes dad?" "Do you want to see the re-run? See who you're in it with?" he asks. "Ya, sure." I walk up the stairs into the living room. He turns on the re-runs and after an announcement from Plutarch Heavensbee the tributes faces show up. Venen Vis Snow. I stare at the girl on the screen. All the Snows have the same beady snake-like eyes. If looks could kill this girl would be Medusa. Ligne Piset, Amaryllis Tentson. My heart sinks. Not only do I have to be in an arena with Snow's granddaughter but Ama? She's my friend! It was one thing to be thrown into an arena with a bunch of people I don't like, but my friend? I finally got how Katniss Everdeen felt going in. Peeta had been her boyfriend, she must have felt awful. Clytemnestra Ligilemns. I groan. How many of Snow's relatives are even in these games? Next is me. I stare at my face. My black hair. The blue streaks look so stupid now. When I'd gotten them they'd looked awesome to me. That was three years ago. Now, as I'm about to receive the worst fate anyone can get they look stupid, kiddish. I wish I'd never gotten them. They'll make me stand out at night. Not as much as some of the other's tattoos but still. Lucius Marcus Vedsagon. Great a peacekeeper's son. "This is going to be the most interesting Hunger Games ever," I mutter. My dad just nods. I don't pay attention anymore. Some names I recognise. Evee Cremate (a girl from school whose dad was like a gamekeeper or something), Deke Marsh (a boy whose mom was a very famous stylist for District 2), and a few others. My dad looks at my sunken face. I pull my knees into my stomach and put my face in between. "I'm dead," I say sadly. My dad sighs. "You never know. Remember Joanah Mason? She was small and skinny and everyone left her to the end. But it turned out she was vicious. You could be like her," he says. I stare at him with tears in my eyes. "Dad, I'm not a killer! I got queasy thinking about the people from the districts! You know I could never watch the games! How am I supposed to participate in them?" I ask desperately. I'm crying now, not even trying to hold it in. My father sits there looking at me for a long time. "I know Poppy, but you must try to survive. These games are cruel. We all know that, but we didn't care until they were forced on us. Now the capitol is getting a taste of what the Districts have been enduring for 75 years! You have to try. Promise me you'll try." He seems more scared than I am. "I promise. Dad."
(November 28, 2011 - 9:52 pm)
//Clymn//
My friends and I are sitting around the television, the lights are dimmed, and the faces for the tributes are coming on. I'm calm and don't really care if I'm chosen, because I know I am. Ven's face flashes on the screen and I sigh. "Poor Ven. I hope someone else kills her." I say, standing up to get a drink. As I come back one of my friends calls to me. "Hey, Clymn, you were chosen. You really should've gotten that tattoo with us, I mean, look at her." She points to the screen and I glance at it, bored. "Yeah, I probably should've. Or maybe black highlights." I tilt my head and play with my snow white, glossy hair, imagining it with streaks of black. Then da comes in, holding a piece of paper. "Clymn, darling, you've been invited to a party celebrating the Games." He sighs tiredly. "Great, not this party again. We have the same one every year." I groan. "Yes, but now you'll be a tribute," one of my friends, Noxandria, says. I sigh inwardly. Just another thing to get through. "Hey da, before the games could I get a tattoo?" He mutters yes, not really looking up and not showing any signs of paying attention. I leave to go get a tattoo.
Sorry that really didn't get anywhere -.-
(November 28, 2011 - 11:35 pm)
Name: Kyla (Key-la) Laban Heavensbee
Gender: Female
Age: 14
Relation to important Capitol person: Plutarch Heavensbee's niece
Appearance: Big blue eyes, which are enhanced by her eye shadow, liner and mascara; chin-length dark brown hair, bobbed and curves around her face; tan skin; three ear lobe earrings on each ear, one ring on the tip of her ear
Personality: Pampered like a poodle, aware of the world around her, loud-mouthed, and a leader type person
Other: Her Dad, Plutarch's brother, is a good friend and close work associate of Snow. He's helped him with decisions and papers, and has been seen in TV with him.
(November 29, 2011 - 11:06 am)
Kyla-
Morning.
An Avoxserves me dark coffee while Mother plays with her curlers.
“Mother, why do you even care about the curlers?”
“I have to look good for the public. What if a camera caught me with STRAIGHT hair?” She says this like it’s the worst thing that could ever happen.
“You never go out on Saturdays.”
“Mind your own business, dear. You shouldn’t meddle. It’s not ladylike.”
“That sounds like something from one of those old plays by that Sh- Sh-“
“Shakespeare.”
“Why do you bother with that stuff? You could be reading the NEWS.”
“Don’t tell me what to do! For goodness sake, Kyla, when will you learn MANNERS?” I twist the stud in my left ear. “Never.”
Mother “hmphs”, pushes her chair back and walks out of the room. I lean back in my chair, not really caring, to be frank.
“Good-“
“Hello, Father.”
“Kyla.” Father walks in, his graying hair ruffled, and his blue bathrobe wrinkled from lying on the bedroom floor.
An awkward silence settles between us. It’s always like this when Mother’s not at the table. Father and I never know what to say.
I crunch my butter-smothered toast and look at the cream-colored walls of the dining room.
“Bad news.” This doesn’t surprise me. There’s been Bad News since Katniss and Peetawon the Hunger Games.
“What is it this time?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“There’s going to be a new Hunger Games.” I can’t help, but show interest. The Hunger Games. The last one was the fiftith when the rebellion started to roll.
“Why?”
“To punish the people in the Capitol.”
“You mean-“ I give my father a questioning gaze.
“Yes, I mean that they’re choosing children in the Capitol.”
“A reaping?”
“No, a vote.”
“Something democratic?”
Father rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t be so sarcastic. No wonder, you don’t have friends.”
“Of course, I have friends.” My cheeks rise in color.
“It doesn’t matter, Kyla. What does, is that you’re going to be in the Hunger Games.”
“WHAT?! Really?! Oh my gosh.” I have a feeling like you get when you’re swinging up high. Your stomach drops into your feet.
“You shouldn’t worry, Kyla.”
“I’m not worrying.”
“Of course, you’re worrying.”
“Why should I worry?”
“You have a reason to worry. You have no training, no idea what it’s like out there…”
“Half the districts didn’t have training.”
“They died.”
I swallow. “I’m strong.”
“Not strong enough.”
“I can run.”
“Not fast enough.”
“I can-“
“Kyla, accept it, you’re not coming back.”
It’s a really great feeling being told you won’t last by your own father.
*
“Kyla Heavensbee!” Flavius Flickerman calls on the TV screen. I get up and leave the room. I can’t watch anymore.
I’m becoming my mother, closed up in a tortise shell, not wanting to accept the real world.”
(November 29, 2011 - 11:33 am)
"Oh my gosh, did you see Lyn's tattoos?"
"Yeah, they're supposed to represent her weird cult thing."
"I heard Clymn's getting one too."
"Really?"
"Mm-hm. I'm gonna need something way better than these to show them up."
I absentmindedly trace the swirling tattoo designs on my arm, feeling the familiar patterns under my fingers. My father, being a stylist, is always happy to endorse the latest trends in fashion. I doubt he would say no to me getting another one.
"Hey, Lessra," I say to my friend. "What do you think I should get for my next tattoo?" Lessra looks at me doubtfully from the video-chat screen.
"Don't you already have enough, Ama?" she asks. I shrug.
"I need something that will stand out," I say. "Something they can't take away in the Games, and something that won't make me vulnerable or easily visible." I sigh, remembering what I had done to my hair. Lessra can tell.
"Hey, you still look good with brown hair!" she says, trying to cheer me up. "This way, you'll be able to hide more easily."
"Yeah, I guess," I say. But Katniss Everdeen has brown hair. Katniss Everdeen... the reason I'm in this mess. Suddenly, I have an idea.
"Lessra," I say, "I know what my next tattoo is going to be."
"What is it?"
"You'll just have to wait and see."
------------
Half an hour later, I call Lessra back on the chat screen, waiting impatiently for the old-fashioned bell noise to finish ringing. I really have to talk to someone about that. Suddenly, it stops as Lessra appears on-screen.
"Back already?" she asks.
"It didn't take that long," I reply. "Dad barely even argued with me about which side it should go on."
"That's a relief," says Lessra with a laugh. "Can I see it?" She leans in eagerly, as if we're really talking face-to-face. I lift my arm and turn it around to face her, careful not to block my view so I can see her astonishment.
"Wow," she breathes. "You sure know how to make an impression." Stencilled on my arm, in black and white, is a picture of two birds with their wings raised, close to each other but not touching. Each one is kept in its own circle, separated from the other by a clear, hard line. One of those birds is a simple mockingbird.
The other is a jabberjay.
"That's what I'm going for, Lessra," I say. I can't help but smile. "Let's hope Katniss Everdeen sees it bright and clear."
(November 30, 2011 - 7:53 pm)
//Lyn//
They sneak me in at night.
I'm marched up to the front steps of the Training Centre, surrounded not by Peacekeepers but by district rebels in their patchy old, dirty clothes.
Despite the late hours, cameras swarm around me. I keep my face blank. Fast, pulsing music is playing in one of the nearby clubs. Absentmindedly, I flex one ring finger, expecting music to start playing, streaming through my NanoChip.
Nothing happens.
I remember the surgery. I'd been put to sleep, but I am aware that they took away any of my surgical implants that could have been beneficial to me in the Games. Pretty much just my NanoChip and my Insta-Sunglasses.
I'm pushed through the door and am led into an elevator. It's a sleek, crystal thing. I wonder if it was like that 75 years ago, during the first Hunger Games.
I don't know what floor I stop on. I think it is the seventh floor.
I'm met by a somber-faced Aniqua Bethers. District Seven's escort.
Her dark green hair is tied up loosely and by an evidently lazy hand. Her eyes are bloodshot and she reeks of alcohol. She has a niece and a nephew, both of whom are famous. I don't know if any of those two are Tributes, but it seems like it.
"You must be Ligne," Aniqua slurs. The rebel guards walk out and slam the door behind them. I narrow my eyes at the escort.
"Yes, I am Ligne," I say icily. "And if you don't get your act together, I'll personally kill your niece and nephew." Aniqua glares at me.
"You're quite rude," she says, but her voice is less slurred. She points at a door. "You're in there. Change into something, freshen up and be out in two hours for dinner."
"It's a little late, don't you think?" Aniqua turns her back on me.
"Suit yourself."
(December 1, 2011 - 4:24 pm)
Olive, I didn't really understand your post. Was she like going to the party? Or was she doing something else? I'm sorry but I'm a little lost.
(December 1, 2011 - 7:58 pm)
@Sam: No worries. Lyn was being taken to the Training Centre, that's all. :)
(December 1, 2011 - 9:33 pm)
Can we have a parade? I think it could be good advertising and I had a good idea for it...
(December 2, 2011 - 8:56 am)
Poppy-
I sat on my bed trying figure out a strategy when my dad comes in. "Time to go to the training center." I groan. "Right." I get up and walk out of my room. It takes 10 minutes to get there because my dad is driving really slow. When we get to the training center I feel really sick. We are met at the front by a freakishly tall lady. "Hello, I'm Iris Flanagin. You are Poppy Flickerman?" I nod. "Yeah." "Come with me, your father leaves now." My dad started to argue but I shake my head. He frowns but leaves anyway. When I walk into the training center everyone is already there. I walk over to the bow and arrows. I don't want to show anyone how good I am at throwing knives; that could take away my only advantage in the games.
Sorry it's so short; my brain's fried.
(December 2, 2011 - 5:22 pm)
Kyla-
“I’m going out,” I yell while stepping out of the front door. I don’t even bother listening for an answer; Mother would kill me if she knew where I am going.
I stride towards the outer part of town. The inner part is filled with rebels and beauty parlors; not a place for me.
Though everyone is rich in the Capitol, there are the “better” and the “worse” places. I’m heading for the worse. The streets and houses get smaller, the gardens are just a few acres.
I turn right into an alley where people leave their trash for the men to pick it up. It smells rotten because of the food littering the ground.
A metal garage is at the end of the alley. I knock twice.
“Who’s there?”
“Kyla.”
“Kyla who?”
“Heavensbee.” A diamond eye peaks around the corner, then crinkles into a smile. The door opens slightly and I duck inside.
Devontae greets me with a hug, and leads me to the back of the room. Hard rock is blasting out of some antique speakers mounted in the wall. The place is empty except for a few people sitting in chairs.
“Where’s all your business?”
“Gone, ever since the announcement… People are just glued to their TVs to hear more news.”
“It’s gonna get worse.”
“I know.” Devontae runs through his black hair with a golden hand. “You’re in the Games, Kyla.” His pupils are diamonds, yet I can still see the worry in his eyes.
“S’okay.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“Yes, it is. WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I CAN’T TAKE IT! I MIGHT AS WELL LEAVE RIGHT NOW!”
“Hey, calm down. I don’t think that you can’t last. I’m just worried that there’ll be people stronger than you.” He puts a hand on my arm. The gesture makes tears spurt into my eyes. “Do you- I want a new earring.”
Devontae smiles. “What will it be this time?”
“I want something… A sign that will show who I am. Something that will make people remember me.”
“A thorn through a heart.”
“What?”
“I have an idea.” He leads me to a chair. I feel him pierce multiple holes in my ears. It hurts, being so high up on my ear.
“Open your eyes.”
I turn my ear to the mirror and study the little golden earring in my ear. The thorn wraps around the top of my ear three times, then pierces through a tiny heart at the top.
“Perfect.”
“It’s good?” I nod.
*
“Where were you?” Fathers demands angrily. “The rebels are already here.”
I drop my bag on the floor. “So?”
“It’s time for your training.”
“Mhm. I don’t really care; they can go again.”
“Kyla, this isn’t a choice.” His voice is hard, cold like a block of ice.
I sigh, but walk into the living room to where the rebels are waiting anyway.
“C’mon.” They grab my wrists and tug me out the door.
“Hey! I can walk myself, you know.” I glare at the two men.
“Just do what they say, dear,” Mother whispers.
“I’m not going to let myself be pushed around by some freaks.”
“Kyla-“
I hear the door slam behind us, and I’m pushed into a car.
(December 3, 2011 - 3:33 am)
Lucius Vedsagon
They came in the day. Strange that they could even find us. We were hidden, hidden deep in the ground. Father had it built secretly.
They burst the door open, somehow avoiding the cameras and motion sensors and everything that was supposed to catch somebody trying to come in. Stupid rebels. It must have been that same guy who kept overriding the Capitol's broadcasting systems.
Father was already raising the gun that he kept beside him at all times, even after weeks after they took over, and nobody had found us, hidden so deep in the ground. But we should have known that they would come eventually. The Director of Peackeeper Operations was just too great a prize to leave alive. They shot him before he had time to even fire.
His son, though, that was altogether a different matter.
Someone raised a dart gun of sorts and shot me. I was vaguely aware of someone saying, "We've got the last tribute," as I fell into unconsciousness.
What tribute? I'm not a tribute.
___________________________
Ven Snow
Plutarch Heavensbee, Enemy of Ven No. 2, came personally to see me to the training center. I don't know why he bothered. Before they'd locked me up, they'd taken every weapon that they had, even the little poison sacs under my fingernails. And the rebels all had guns. It's not like I could do anything.
"How are you doing, Venen?" he asked coldly. I stared at him, unblinking, for at least thirty seconds before he finally looked away. It makes people rather uncomfortable. Snake eyes, they call me.
I never answer him, just walked past him, where the rebels locked me securely into the back of a car and drove to the training center.
There's a girl with an absurd amount of piercings. I could rip those out. She'd be distracted, and I could kill her. A girl with bright blue streaks in her hair. She looks like she's a nice person, Caesar Flickerman's daughter. A girl with bright green hair. Well, that'll stand out. Be easy to find. Lucius and Clymn. She got the pretty hair in the family, and the ice eyes. I got the snake ones.
I walk forward, and I see that the girl with the green hair has a tattoo of a separated mockingbird and jabberjay. Sweet.
I take a look around. I could win, possibly. Most of them are older, but if I'm smart, I could win. Make the right alliances, betray at the right time.
There's just one problem. The rebels are never going to let me live.
________________
Elizabeth M.: I never though of using the parade as advertising. Great idea!
A-parading we go! Should we have interviews? I am definitely reconsidering. *goes to find Mockingjay* Should Johanna or Enobaria do it?
(December 3, 2011 - 8:32 pm)
Wait, did we just start the actual games? o.O
(December 4, 2011 - 12:29 am)
@ZB: Oh, no no. Though now that I've read it over, I see how it could be seen that way. Ven just got to the Training Center, that's all. Being her usual cheerful, nice, wonderful, self, she's trying to figure out how to win.
(December 4, 2011 - 1:19 pm)