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Forlorn Angels: A Hunger Games Special!

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Introduction

Forlorn Angels. The title really translates into; hopeless children. Children with no hope, forced to battle in this gory event that has destroyed lives, transformed innocent kids into ruthless killing machines. But The Hunger Games has many important lessons. Betrayal. Love. Friendship. Deception. So get ready for these games, because there's a lot in store. There will be drama. There will be calamity. And most importantly, there will be blood.


Tributes

Two tributes per user, must be different district and different gender. Please make your tributes interesting as possible, as it will increase their chances of survival in these games. A big part of a tribute that signifies victory in my eyes is their name. No John Smith's please, they will be killed off immediately. Include name, age, district, gender, personality, history, weapons, skills and game plan. Be creative! And please no generic tributes that you submit to every single blog post on the Wiki. Thank you!

The Tributes

District 1 Female: Sapphire Malachite, 15.

District 1 Male: Picase Etala, 16.

District 2 Female: Christina Parthenon, 17.

District 2 Male: Tenshin Kubaya, 17.

District 3 Female: Purity Knight, 17.

District 3 Male: Damian Byte, 14.

District 4 Female: Xaphania Volitans, 18.

District 4 Male: Marlon Mizu, 16.

District 5 Female: Proserpina Seraph, 15.

District 5 Male: Douglas Kione, 17.

District 6 Female: Leia Astrella, 16.

District 6 Male: Zulfikar Zambrano, 14.

District 7 Female: Jennifer Woods, 18.

District 7 Male: Raze Dethamphetamine, 15.

District 8 Female: Saika Tan, 18.

District 8 Male: Erhen Flemar, 18.

District 9 Female: Savannah Darnell, 12.

District 9 Male: Jake Price, 16.

District 10 Female: Tamina Nasae, 16.

District 10 Male: Katta Wallace, 16.

District 11 Female: Harmonia Neptunus, 13.

District 11 Male: Mortarian Xeran, 17.

District 12 Female: Katrina Simmons, 18.

District 12 Male: Blade Spectrus, 14.

District 13 Male: Daren Nyoka, 18.

District 13 Female: Lacy Sahara, 17.

Training Scores:

D1: Sapphire Malachite: 8, Picase Etala: 8.

D2: Christina Parthenon: 10, Tenshin Kubaya: 9.

D3: Purity Knight: 9, Damian Byte: 6.

D4: Xaphania Volitans: 9, Marlon Mizu: 11.

D5: Proserpina Seraph: 8, Douglas Kione: 5.

D6: Leia Astrella: 7, Zulfikar Zambrano: 6.

D7: Jennifer Woods: 8, Raze Dethampetamine: 6.

D8: Saika Tan: 5, Erhen Flemar: 7.

D9: Savannah Darnell: 6, Jake Price: 6.

D10: Tamina Nasae: 5, Katta Wallace: 7.

D11: Harmonia Neptunus: 7, Mortarian Xeran: 7.

D12: Katrina Simmons: 5, Blade Spectrus: 8.

D13: Lacy Sahara: 10, Daren Nyoka: 8.

The Night Before the Games:

Harmonia Neptunus (District 11): 

Tears begin to avalanche down my red cheeks, my body rattles like an earthquake, and I begin screaming like a wounded banshee. This is real. I am in the Capitol, and tomorrow I will be taking part in this blood fest named The Hunger Games. All I can do is cry. And sweat. And scream.

Unexpectedly, my silver door bursts open and my district partner, Mortarian, has a frightened look on his face. He sighs, realizing there's nothing around to hurt me. "What's wrong?" he asks, perching on the end of my bed. Oh nothing, just that I'm gonna get my head slashed like meat tomorrow, I'm tempted to say. But anything he says, it comforts me. Makes me feel less nervous.

"It's happening.. this is real.." I stammer, anxiously. "Don't you worry. I'll keep you one hundred percent safe," he says, resting his head on me. "I promise." I know what he's saying isn't realistic, but again, I'm forced in this haunting way to believe him. The feeling is undescribable, almost not lifelike.

My mentor, Winter Nyx, ambles into the luxurious room. She has long, red locks with apple shaded eyes to match. Her pale hair floods to her hips, and her dark skin glimmers, even in the dark of night. "Sweetie, it'll be okay? The Capitol simply adores you. The sponsors for you will come in waves." She declares. "They won't let you die as quickly as you think you will." 

Winter is so encouraging. But I have to be careful about her. She won her games by backstabbing her two allies, then poisoning the remaining careers' water. She's very sly, it's kind of intimidating. "Go to sleep." She trots out of the room. Mortarian follows behind her. I slowly weep myself to sleep, dreading what's coming tommorrow.

Lacy Sahara (District 13):

Most of the tributes are getting an early sleep, but I just can't get to sleep. At all. Daren is sleeping like a baby, which seems to me plain impossible. Over the few days I've developed an evergrowing phobia for the games, but I know I have nothing to worry about. It's like a fake fear. I mean come on, I got a ten in training. Clearly, I'm not bad. But even a girl who scored an eleven last year died to someone with a six.

Suddenly, I heat up and become surprisingly hot. Carressing my red cheeks, I realize I am developing some kind of illness. This is terrible. There's no way I can survive these games with a disease. Filling a glass with crystalline water, I gulp some down and exhale deeply.

Feeling sick, I head out to the balcony to get some fresh air. Luckily, there's a mild breeze, not too cold, not too hot. I grip onto the concrete, and gaze down into the square. Everything here is so beautiful. It's like I'm in a painting. After getting the air that I needed, I head back inside.

Twirling around, I encounter a shuddersome sight and drop my glass. Jagged shards of glass dart around like sparks. Christina Parthenon stands forth of me, her vindictive eyes staring into mine with pure hatred. My heart pumps faster than light.

"Can I help you?" I ask, breathing in and out intensely. "Yes, actually." She hisses. "Top yourself. You're a pathetic excuse for dirt, filthy bitch." My jaw drops. "Have I done something wrong, sweetheart? How cute, you break in just to spit some school girl shit at me. Haha, you're an embarrassment." I purr, showing her that I'm not taking shit from anyone. My statement seems to keep her lips zipped for a humiliating amount of seconds.

She thrashes her hair forward, like most generic blondes do. "You must think you're some kind of legend. All you are is grime. An impure, poor little girl worth less than shit itself. I'll be killing you with pride tommorrow." Her words infuriate me.

I clock her across the face, with a force so harsh it sends her to the ground. "Funny that, on the ground, where you belong. You're not so pretty now, honey." She boils with anger, and makes an attempt to get up. Kicking her in the stomach, I begin to stirr more. "Wouldn't wanna be dead before the games begin, would you?" I smirk, and she clutches her bruised face. "Ugly bitch!" Tommorrow you're a fucking goner!" She screeches, then struts out, slamming the door shut behind her.

These games will be very, very fun.

Day 1: Bloodshed:

Damian Byte (District 3):

Anxiety slowly casts its spell. I've never been this frightened in my whole life. Purity and I will be picked up in an hour, then taken to the arena. To Purity, this whole scenario is a stroll in the park to her. She's good, I'll give her that, but she's too damn confident. 

"If the uniform has orange, I'm going to step off my land mine," she complains, grooming her hair with a pink hairbrush. She's a spitting image of a District 1 girl, with a personality to match. The mirror is her best friend, it's even her token for the games. Pathetic right?

Soon, we're picked up on top of the roof and one by one, everyone boards the jet black helicopter. Not knowing what the arena is going to be, I become even more terrified. If it's water, I'm screwed. I'd rather be blown to bits than drown. If there's no ocean, then I might stand a chance in these games. I'm smart and conniving, I can think on my feet, and I'm not that bad with a bow.

Suddenly, the helicopter quakes mildy and I realize what's going on. We've arrived at the arena. 

My stylist, Circe, ushers me down a long, metallic strip, leading to my launch room. I exhale deeply, letting all my fear out. Being scared won't accomplish nothing at all. She adorns me with a jet black jump suit, the sleeves cutting off at the elbow. She then hands me hunting boots and a jacket to put on myself. It's happening. In minutes, I'll be in that arena.

"I believe in you." She says, her ditsy Capitol accent transforming into a human's tone. "Thank you. For everything." I reply, and hug her one last time. "Let's get this show on the road," I say confidently, then head into my tube.

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