they were thrown into the glass tube. they hit the cold, curved side of it. it was starting. and the machinery brought them up to the surface. the buildings. this… they… it looked, as if district 12 had been overgrown and neglected past its neglect. 'welcome to round 6 of the hunger games.' 'may the odds be ever in your favor.' if there was one thing they knew, it was this. the odds were never in your favor. because if they said that to everyone, it was in no one's favor. and it was the tribute's job to tip the scales. maybe they shouldn't have made the tube out of glass! they knew, they could see the signs of traps in the rotting timbers of the building. tracking out a route for them was not hard. the cylindrical prisons slid away, and the countdown echoed. they ran, but waited. until everyone was inside. if you could climb, going up the side was easier. and they did just that. pulling into the third floor through a window, they had barely gotten hurt. there was no time to find things. a weapon, some food, and a source of water would do. everything was large weapons. they had no choice. a sword was wedged into a box, and they grappled with it until it launched out and clattered to the floor. in order to not alert someone to their existence, they looked outside. good. slowly, they kicked the sword out the window. it fell into the long grass below. searching the boxes, they opened a few. a bag containing a food packet and a water filter. this should do. this was small enough for them to carry, and so they slung the bag over their shoulder and began the descent down. dragging the sword behind them, they trailed off into the distance.
If you didn't notice, the scars have been there since long before the arena… hmm…
