Hello, my name is Ransom and no, you may not call me Randy or I’d have to kill you. Yes, I can see you with your dulling eyes as you scan this document measuring up the competition for this year’s games. And yes, I am breaking the fourth wall; how very observant of you. You see I have this theory that maybe if I can hit it hard enough I can shatter it and claw my way out of this hellhole.

Not that I’m complaining. I was only trapped on a train riding to my death with with four of the most irritating people on the face of planet earth. Let’s start with Maisy the happy, rainbow, sunshine child whose positivity made me want to claw my eyes with each word she spoke- and let me tell you she spoke a lot of them. Don’t get me wrong, she was definitely scared. She would have to be brain dead not to be. That made her positivity all the worse though, as she forced her quaky, in-vain comments out through her gritted teeth. I was sorely tempted to slap her and inform her we were both going to die.

Then there was my mentor. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of people complain about their mentors. I guarantee you that my mentor is the worst, oh sure, its bad when your mentor is constantly high or they have social issues but I think knocking yourself over the head with large rocks until you forget takes the cake for worst mentor award. The damage had been done, Basile Sow’s skull was heavily deformed and had no memory of the games. I heard a rumor that after each time the kids he mentored died in a game he knocked his head in some more. Sitting here now observing the elderly man wave his spoon around in the air making a buzzing noise I think he may have lost more than just his memory of the games- more like the majority of his life.

“Are you excited?” And of course my escort.

I screamed and jumped forward hitting the table that I sat in, doubling over and for the grand finale I cracked my  head against the table. It takes talent to be that downright spookable. Don’t try this at home kids. It hurts a lot, I promise.

I let out a long over dramatic groan and turned around to see my escort, “If you have to say something to me please don’t sneak up behind me like you're about to stab me or something.” I said flatly straightening myself and rubbing my poor, beautiful skull. Why the hell do people feel the need to sneak up behind other people if they aren’t planning on murdering them?

Before I go on I think I should describe my escort to you so you don’t get confused, when I said escort I’m sure a picture of a rainbow, naive, woman without a care in the world popped into your head. Think again.

My escort was a 6 foot 2 barbarian who seemed to be the biggest Hunger Games fangirl in the history of the games. “Of course.” The huge man doubled over and tiptoed around to the front of front of the table with an embarrassed expression on his face. “So are you excited?” He asked again teeming with excitement, much to my disturbance I noticed he clutched a journal and pen in his hands to jot down whatever I said. That was totally normal, I snorted.

I pursed my lips trying to decide whether I wanted to lie to him or insult him, both had potential to be amusing. I decided a compromise was in store, “Reddick,” I smiled at my escort. “How could I not be excited to fight to the death?” I paused biting my cheeks to keep from bursting into laughter at the expression on his face of sheer worship. “Not when I-” I paused dramatically this time. “I shouldn’t say.”

Reddick’s eyes widened and he grabbed my hands with the force of a ox. For a second I was genuinely concerned for my safety. “Tell me!” He practically screamed, his eyes bulging. From across the room I saw Maisy look at us curiously and start over. Wonderful I was creating a congregation of idiots.

I made a fake display of suspicion as I stroked my chin, “Are you sure I can trust you?” I asked smoothly squinting one eyeball.

His grip tightened on my wrists, “Yes! Yes! You can trust me!” He cried the vein pulsing in his forehead. I suddenly wished he looked like an actual fangirl instead of a bloodthirsty psychopath. Like at least if he had a bow taped to the top of his bald heavily tattooed head he might not be so intimidating.

“Umm… see when I say these magic words that I can’t get into really right now, I turn into a giant enchanted cow that shoots bullets out of its eyes.” I whispered fervently as if I was whispering like my life depended on it. I watched in utter joy as he sat back his eyes wide as he contemplated the meaning of ‘my power’.

I felt the back of my neck prickle and I turned around to see Basile staring at me errily, I stared back uneasily. “Preparation is key.” He said suddenly, a sliver of light entering his eye. “I think you’ll find some in the past. Go to the couches with Maisy and watch some old tapes, I think they’ll help you.” Then the remembrance was gone and he went back to playing with his food.

I got to my feet and walked over to him, my brain wheeling. This was the first thing he had said at all to us… and it was smart. Too smart for a brain dead man. I wondered… was this all an act so he wouldn’t have to go through with training us to spare himself from the pain? This was not acceptable. I felt Maisy try to grab my arm- ew. I hope whatever was going on in her head wasn’t contagious. I shook it off and went over to stand by Basile. “Hi.” I said flatly. “I have reason to believe you aren’t actually mentally handicapped. I don’t appreciate it since my life kind of depends on you giving me tips.”

Basile went on making the buzzing noise and flying his airplane spoon into his mouth. So the old man wanted to play hardball? I was good at hardball, especially since I’d been maneuvering the underworld since I was…. well ever since I realized that my parents didn’t have enough food to feed the entire family and were beginning to have to skip meals themselves and I’d left. I didn’t want to have my parents suffer, wondering where I had gone so I simply had my pal tell them that the peacekeepers had arrested me for stealing an apple and were going to execute me privately. Yeah, I was still alive on official Panem record so I still had to attend reapings and such, but my parents didn’t know that.

I shuddered as I remembered getting reaped… that had been awkward. You know realizing you're dead son was actually alive and leading a life of crime- my parents hadn’t been to happy when they’d come to see me in the visiting room. I’d made it clear to them that the monthly mysterious bag of earnings that appeared on their porch had come from me, that hadn’t helped as much as I thought it would. They just went on the ‘I love you and leaving us was unacceptable’ rant. They didn’t even bring up the fact that they had been starving to death.  At least my siblings had been happy to see me- the younger ones anyway.    

Sorry, I got sidetracked. I do that a lot, long story short; I was the king of hardball. Especially when my objective was a senile old man who couldn’t fight back. I grabbed the steaming pot of hot coffee and poured it over his head, a sound that sounded like the cry of a wounded animal flew from his lips as the steaming liquid poured down on his scalp. He looked up at me his eyes wide. “I will keep pouring this liquid over your head until you help us, there is nothing you can do about it!” I growled with my most menacing glare. (It was rather scary. I practiced it in the mirror a lot.)

Basile did the last thing I expected him to do, one second he was in the chair staring ahead blankly- the next he was on his feet and shoving me backward. “Goddammit!” He shrieked. I hit the ground hard, the remaining coffee in the pot I clutched spilled, scalding my chest. “You don’t know what you want!” I watched him turn around and storm out of the car.

So I had been right…. but then again when am I not right? I forced myself to my feet and chased him- because you know chasing a possibly homicidal old man is a good idea. “Wait! Who are you to make that judgement!” I yelled suddenly teeming with anger. I ducked out of the dining cart and into the hallway. “I don’t want to die!”

Basile spun around without warning, before I was even fully aware of what was happening he’d shoved my body up against the wall, his hands squeezing my shoulders. “You don’t want to win either.” His eyes were wide and brimming with a horror that send chills racing up my spine. “Trust me you don’t want to live. It never goes away- it never goes away!” He gasped, his voice was shaking now. “I don’t know why I even tried to advise you earlier. I let my selfish human feelings get in the way.” He said coldly letting go of my shoulders and stepping back. I watched him numbly walk to his room and twist the handle, then he paused. “If you want one piece of advice from me, its this: Take the quickest route to an easy painless death without suffering. Throw yourself off your plate before the bloodbath.” With that he opened the door and slid inside.

I stood there a second completely numb as I heard the lock on the door click and soft sobs instil from inside. I shook my head backing away a few steps, I’d actually kind of felt bad for him. That wasn’t like me. If my life had taught me one thing it was that there were two types of people in the world; the weak and the strong, and if you wanted to survive and for your family to survive you had to be strong no matter what the implications were. I pushed his advice aside and re-entered the dining car, the old man had clearly taken one too many rocks to the head.

Maisy was on the ground by the television surrounded by tapes looking as chipper as ever as she sorted through them with Reddick sitting on the couch behind her watching her hands sort through them intently. I leaned on the doorway for a second observing. Maisy held up a tape for Reddick to look like, he clasped his hands together and grinned dreamily, “Oh my gosh I loved that game! It was so dramatic. Two of the main careers were rivaling over this really hot chick named Amethyst! And Maverick, the winner, was so funny! I loved when he got kidnapped by the fire trolls on day four who wanted to scalp him for his red hair!”

Maisy smiled sadly and looked down at the tape herself, “I don’t know how you can find such joy in watching people die… but none the less you do. Do you think this game would assist us if we watched it?” She asked, her voice was annoyingly soft and feminine like a little butterfly.

Reddick thought for a moment and shook his head, “No you guys need to watch one of the games in which somebody from an outer district wins…. You're not as strong as the careers so therefor surviving career tactics would be useless to you. Like maybe the games where Cathalina Ivy Sylverstar from district five won with her sleek armor! Or the games with Delvin Summers- I have all the trading cards for that game!” He said giddily.

I slowly walked over to them, an idea formulating in my head. “Hey Reddick,” I started walking over to him and plopping myself down on the other end of the couch upon which he sat. “How much do you know about the Hunger Games.”

I swear his eyes practically swirled. “Everything.” He said salverating a tad at the mouth.

Was Reddick a scary person? Yes. Was he possibly insane and definitely creepishly obsessive while simultaneously possessing stalker-like qualities? Yes. But was he our best the next best thing to having a mentor? Definitely and that was what we needed. “Hey Reddick, Basile kind of bailed on us back there… do you want to be our honorary mentor?”

He looked at me, his face deadly serious. “You’re kidding?”

Maisy was looking at me oddly making a cutting motion with her hands. I ignored her as I usually ignore stupid people. “Yeah, of course.” I said with a smile.

His reaction was the confirmation that I needed that he was insane. He threw his head back and started screaming. I inched away a little, more than slightly concerned. Had I just ignited a maniac? Suddenly he leapt at me and engulfed me in a bearhug. “I love you!” He squealed crushing my poor ribs. Then as suddenly as he had grabbed me he dropped my back on the couch and began dancing around the car like maniac on drugs.

Maisy grabbed my collar scowling, “How dare you do that without consulting me first! We are a team!” Her hazel eyes bore into me, if looks could kill I would have been roasted, stuffed, and served on a platter by now. As you could imagine I was genuinely thankful in that moment looks couldn’t kill.

I raised my hands in mock surrender, “Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I don’t remember anything about saying we were on a team.” I snorted wishing I wasn’t cornered on a couch or I would have walked away at this point.

This only seemed to irritate happy gumball child even more. “There is no ‘I’ in team!” She hissed, “Like it or not we are from the same district and up to the point that we are released into the games we are going to be working together so you can’t be making all of the shots!”

I gently pushed her away, “You’re right. There no ‘I’ in team, but there is a ‘me’ if you rearrange the letters and thats basically the same thing.” I’d like to say that I was mildly concerned about Little Miss Bubbly turning on me like this, but honestly I found her anger mildly humorous. I just couldn’t take her seriously. It was like a bunny holding you at gunpoint.

Maisy’s face flushed with irritation as I randomly wondered who on earth would name their kid Maisy, I thought it sounded like a hooker name. I watched Maisy’s mouth open to form a retort when Reddick swooped back over saving me from whatever the bunny of death was planning on screaming at me next. “Okay guys! So as the honorary mentor-” He giggled girlishly emphasizing the words ‘honorary’ and ‘mentor’. “I wanted to ask you guys what sort of victor’s games you wanted to check out. We can talk strategy later.” He clapped his hands together and looked at us expectantly.

I opened my mouth to suggest that he just stick whatever he thought was best in the TV but but Maisy clasped her hand over my mouth, “Show us the victor that had the most odds against him or her.” She suggested going back to the irritating princess voice.

It was really scary how Reddick recited the name as if on instinct, just how many hours a day did Reddick spend in his room watching reruns of the games? “Stone Everglade from District 11.” He bent forward rummaging through the tapes for a few lengthy seconds before yanking out an especially beaten up tape from the pile. “You guys are lucky, I wasn’t sure if they would have this here. This tape isn’t widely circulated due to… some things that went down.” He slipped it into the player and the symbol of the capital lit up the large screen.

“What kinds of things?” I asked impulsively adjusting my seat on the couch as Reddick hurried over to the diner cart. He ignored me for whatever reason...  “You guys want anything before I turn down the lights?” He asked reassuming his duty as escort for a second.

“I’m good.” Maisy said flatly staring at the screen with a sick look on her face, as if bracing herself for what was to come. The reapings started but I didn’t pay much mind, unlike Maisy I liked having all of this food.

“Yes,” I crained my neck around to look at Reddick, “I’d like all of the jellybeans in that bowl except for every color besides red. The red ones are the best. The rest are gross. Thank you.” I said loving the feeling of having people under you to do your bidding. Reddick let out an irritable groan but I ignored it. Yeah I was being fussy, but I was off to fight to the death for their amusement the least they could do was provide me with my favorite jellybeans.

I turned my attention back to the reapings and watched without interest until a few minutes later Reddick dimmed the lights and put a bowl full of red jellybeans on my lap, goody! Reddick picked up the remote and began fast forwarding it. “Figure we should just skip the unnecessary stuff.” He commented absentmindedly going right over the District 11 reaping and towards the interview.

Finally he paused it just as the current interviewer was saying, “Please welcome District 11’s male tribute Stone Everglade!” Stone Everglade, to everyone’s surprise didn’t appear. The woman shifted her feet uncomfortably and tried again. “Let’s welcome Stone Everglade, coming to us all the way from District 11!” Stone still didn’t appear. “Well…. Lets give him a few minutes…. Maybe he’s just shy.” The interviewer suggested, clearly unsure of the proper procedure for a missing tribute.

“Where is he?” I leaned over with my mouth crammed with red jelly beans and asked in Reddicks ear, getting more than a few chunks of red goop in there.

Reddick didn’t respond to me, instead only signaling me to be quiet. Gee. What an ‘honorary mentor’ you’re turning out to be, I thought sarcastically as I turned my attention back to the screen just in time to see a tall, angular guy with black hair get pushed through the curtains and fall prostrate on the stage.

I snorted in amusement.

“Oh! Look! Here he is now! Let’s give Stone a warm welcome!” The capital woman squealed excitedly pointing at the boy. I laughed as a peacekeeper came out of the curtains and began dragging the limp boy to the chair across from the interviewer.

“Whats wrong with him?” Maisy asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is he paralysed?”

Reddick didn’t ignore her. I definitely sense favoritism. “We don’t really know what Stone is besides ornery and depressed.” He said helplessly as I stared at the boy getting placed into the chair. He looked smug, I decided I liked him.

The interview dragged on and I watched with growing interest as Stone was openly a jerk to the interviewer… but he wasn’t just a jerk. I noticed, he was righteous. My ears perked up as I watched his irritated yet very soulful voice stand up not to just the interviewer, but the capital as well. “What are we? Just playthings to you? ‘Whos the weakest, whos the strongest?’ You want to know what I see when I look at those kids? I see 23 kids who are going to die for your amusement! 23 kids who won't get to grow up and have a life. 23 kids who are either convinced this it is honorable in this way or are scared out of their mind!” He yelled, “You say this is tradition or whatever, but honestly it’s just sick! You are celebrating 23 murders and one murderer! How can none of you see this?” I watched him look around at the people watching him, scanning them for any sympathizer.

Poor stupid little man, I shook my head. “How the hell did he even win?” I asked with a snort, “He seems like one of the ones that the capital would kill as soon as possible.”

Reddick gritted his teeth, “I don’t know. I think they might have underestimated him until it was too late…There’s other conspiracy theories of course, but none of them are credited.”

I turned my attention back to the interview intime to hear Stone also announce that he had no intention on wining and that he wanted to die. He was freaking crazy, if he could survive the games anybody could. Reddick picked up the remote again, gravely this time as he fast forwarded it again, skipping over the rest of the interviews and pausing at the bloodbath, “Heres where things get weird.” He said as he hit the play button.

I watched in utter astonishment as everyone rushed off of their pedestals- except for Stone who gently stepped off of the plate and began walking through the bloodbath, blood and death flew around him.

What the hell? Run idiot! I wanted to scream as I watched the dude from two attack him. At this point the stuffing my my mouth with red jellybeans reached an alltime high as I sat staring at the screen utterly transfixed.

And then the impossible happened, Stone Everglade from District 11 killed a career and took off running. They zoomed in on his face, it was stricken with terror as he disappeared into an ally. The screen changed to show an overview of all the mutilated bodies of the bloodbath, zooming in on the most decapitated. I forced myself not to look away, I’d never seen death on this scale before. Think of it as mental preparation, I told myself, seeing it in real life will be much, much worse….

The cameras switched again to the small girl from 11 sprinting down the alleyway. I furrowed my brows as I watched the two tall figures corner her, they were both female though I didn’t know their names because Reddick had skipped most of the pre-games. “I’m sorry kid, but only one of us comes out alive. We are probably doing you a favor, ending you quick like this.” One of the girls said gruffly.

“Why are you making us watch this?” Maisy cried suddenly, her eyes brimming with tears. “This has nothing to do with survival, watching a poor little girl beg for her life!”

Reddick shushed her violently and pointed to the screen, in the dark shadows of the alleyway a figure emerged holding an old wooden board, I watched in startlement as they attacked the girls who had been attacking the smaller girl. One collapsed to the ground as the board connected with her head as the other one took off, disappearing around the corner.

I watched, bracing myself for the small girl’s death. It never came though. The figure just stood there staring at the little girl who thanked them and ran off. The figure turned to watch her and in the dim moonlight of the games I saw the unmistakable face of Stone.

It didn’t stop there. The guy only got crazier. He interfered with the careers, saved people and even threw himself off a building trying to kill himself. I felt strange emotions start to swell inside me. I didn’t like emotions.

Suddenly I felt myself snap. I couldn’t take it anymore. I ripped the remote from Reddick’s hand and shut it off. “What was that for?” Reddick snapped trying to grab it back from me, “Give it back, you're only halfway through the games!” I ran through the dimly lit room stumbling over objects as I grasped the window. I flung it open and tossed the remote into the damp night wind.

I stood there staring at the endless black, as if I was afraid the remote was going to sprout wings and come back into the car seeking revenge. That wasn’t my concern, honestly I had no clue as to what my concern was. The wind tugged at my hair and numbed my ears, after a minute I leaned back inside the car, closing the windows tightly.

Reddick glared at me, “What is your deal? Now we have no way of working the television.” He said with more than a little whine in his voice.

I decided to be honest, “I have no clue as to what my deal is, and that was the point.” I said without much emotion as I flicked on the light and stormed out of the dining car. My eyes scanned the hall for the door to my room while my mind wheeled for the answer to my behavior.

In retrospect I think it really should have very obvious what my problem with the games was. (You know besides the usual complaints of a bunch of small children getting brutally murdered.) My answer would come to me in the very darkest depths of the night as I lay wide awake tossing and turning in the bed, and that answer is this; I realized that I was a complete jerk. I mean I’d always known I was a jerk but I had never seen anyone like Stone who so bravely stood up for what he believed in.

Earlier I believe I mentioned the philosophy that I’d grown up believing: There were two types of people in the world; the weak and the strong, and if you wanted to survive and for your family to survive you had to be strong no matter what the implications were. Stone was the first person I had seen prove that being strong and kind was an option.

This bothered me very much.