Charlemagne Lewis, District 11

    The arrows resumed their spinning, wild, erratic. I had been deposited in a dark tunnel. There were stone walls to my left, stone walls to my right. Behind me lay nothing but more darkness, before me lay a blindingly bright opening.
I was not alone in this tunnel. Behind me stood rows of men, in leather armor, bearing shields and spears. Each man had a faint green glow to them illuminating the face of the boy who stood beside me: Sim Gamer.
The other tribute stood nearly a foot shorter than me, on eye level with my stomach. His eyes were a crystal blue, and his blonde hair was a mess.
He looked up at me with his child-like grin, taking years off of him. This kid was the only tribute in sight; maybe he knew something I didn't.
"Where are we?"
He blinked his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know either.
"Move."
A row of men with spears came up behind us and spoke their command. They placed the tips of their spears at our backs, and forward we went.
We stepped through the opening of the tunnel, into the blinding light outdoors. My eyes watered for a quick second, but when they cleared, I knew exactly where I was: the Roman Colisseum.
Rows of holographic audience members filled the stands, going up and up, far above my head. In the midst of them stood a raised platform, and on there, stood a screen. The screen came on, and there was a man in a mask.
"Hello, one and all! It is I, your Gamemaker, Chess Winchester. Welcome to the Roman Colisseum. Today we have a very interesting match to show you all. On the one side, we have a boy called Charlemagne Lawrence. He'll be fighting with a scimitar. Opposing him, we have Sim Gamer, who is armed with a spear and a sword. Their fight is for your enjoyment, so, enjoy. Oh, and watch the pillars boys, the do tend to appear quite suddenly. Anywho, may the fight begin. And may the odds be ever in your favor."
I had been tasked with fighting Sim. With fighting a 13 year old child. With fighting someone so clearly smaller than I. The holograms who had led us in quickly disappeared.
He turned his blue eyes on me, a steely look in his eyes. He meant to win. I turned to run, and quickly noticed the headdress I had captured perched atop my ginger curls. How nice of them to leave it with me.
As I ran, I noticed pillars shooting up from the ground. A modern addition to an old concept. Obstacles that moved with the help of technology, rising into a colisseum of ancient days.
The floor began to rise up beneath me, and I glanced down to see Sim's scowl of frustration. However, as the pillar, rose ever higher, a sinking feeling tugged at my stomach. I could clearly see the fruit picker falling from the tree top, his body twisting and turning as he tumbled through the air. I could hear the crunch as his body struck the ground, slammed into the earth. I could smell the metallic scent of his blood leaking out into the grass.
The same panic I had felt then rose up in me now, magnified a thousand fold. The ground, so far below, was spinning and shifting in my gaze. My heart was beating out of my chest, and my breathing was growing erratic as I became hysterical. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, running down my cheeks, splashing onto my hand as I touched my scar.
Even as I panicked, the pillar began to descend. As the ground approached, I began to feel a sense of calm stealing over me once again. However, I could see Sim, waiting at the bottom, sword ready, ready to go straight through my heart.
My nerve-wracked mind cobbled together a plan, and I committed to it in the heat of the moment. As soon as I was close enough to the ground, I launched myself off of the pillar, landing about six feet away. I took off running, trying to get away from Sim. I'd have to get him tired before I could even try to sword fight him.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Sim draw back his spear. He threw it, and, somehow, his aim was good. His spear embedded itself in the back of my leg, emerging partially on the other side. I saw the wound before I felt it. I took a few more steps before the pain reached me.
I bent down and yanked the spear out of my leg, screaming out loud at just how much it hurt. The sight of my own blood dripping onto the sandy ground had my stomach turning over, and made me light-headed. Through the fog in my mind, I decided to go to the wall. At least there I could see his attack no matter where he came at me from.
I couldn't properly run, so I limped, as fast as I could to the wall. I braced myself, back against the wall, sword in hand, eyes on my enemy.
He came running, angry, ready, wielding his sword. He swung his blade at me, but I blocked it with my scimitar. While it prevented me getting stabbed, the force of his swing knocked my blade to the ground. As I ducked to grab it, his sword sliced through the air just centimeters above my head. He struck the wall, but a few feather tips from the headdress rained down, Sim's latest victims. I grabbed my weapon, noticing seconds to late that I held the blade instead of the hilt. I had no time to change that, so, metal biting into my fingers, blood gushing out of my hands, I lifted the scimitar and swung at Sim's head.
The heavy Egyptian hilt connected with the side of his head, accompanied by a crunch and a spurt of blood. My small opponent crumpled to the ground. I dropped my weapon, picked up his in my sliced up group, and put the tip at his neck.
"Wait!"
Chess Winchester spoke from his screen up in the stands.
"He yields. Now, as we are in Rome, we will do as the Romans do. The crowd will decide his fate."
The arena burst into cheers.

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Sim Garner, District 3

***Did Not Hand In, Strike 3***