Chapter 1: Prelude

A/N: Hello, my name is LegendBeast9O, or LB9O for short. As you probably deduced by the title, this fanfiction is about the 100th Hunger Games, or the 4th Quarter Quell. This has my own personal twist on it as well. I was re-inspired to revive this fanfiction by The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, and after reading When the Stars Start to Fade (by LittleMermade). This is also an AU, where Prim died in the 74th Hunger Games, but Peeta was not selected to go. Katniss won the 75th that had a different twist, and thus the Hunger Games continued, due to no rebellion. This story will swap between the tributes' points of view, so there's that. But enough of my rambling. Let's go.

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING BESIDES THE TWIST, THIS FANFICTION, AND MOST OF THE PLOT. THE HUNGER GAMES BELONGS TO SUZANNE COLLINS, AND THE FANFICTION MENTIONED BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNER, NOT ME.

THIS IS NOT A SYOT.

Location: District 12, "The Seam"

President Amanda Snow walked up to the balcony of the mansion and cleared her throat before speaking into the microphone. The Capitol crowd goes wild when the 37-year old president steps up to the podium. However, they calm down a little afterwards.

"Ladies and gentlemen- this is the 100th year… of the Hunger Games.", Amanda speaks out.

This is quickly followed up by a roaring applause by the Capitol citizens who were spectating, seemingly ignorant of the fact that normally, 23 innocent teenagers die every year. This year would be interesting, since it was a Quarter Quell year.

"It was promised that every 25 years, we would hold a Hunger Games with a special significance. Now, on the 100th anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion… we celebrate the 4th Quarter Quell! Now, we must look back on the past Quarter Quells.", boomed President Amanda over the microphone, her voice echoing throughout the City Circle.

She had an old wooden box in front of her, and pulled an envelope out marked '25', and read the contents aloud.

"On the 25th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because it was their choice to initiate violence, the districts elected their own tributes." the President read with a calm and composed voice.

I could feel my eyes twitching and my stomach churning at the thought of betraying my friends, selecting them to go to save my own skin. I glanced at my elderly grandmother, who had a hardened look in her eyes, possibly thinking about those games. That year, the boy from District 7 won, defeating his final opponent with his axe. Jago Portshore was his name.

She reached into the box, this time pulling out an envelope marked with a '50'. Her voice boomed out once again.

"On the 50th anniversary, as a reminder to rebels that for every Capitol citizen killed, two rebels were executed. That year, each district provided four tributes: two boys and two girls."

That was the year that Haymitch Abernathy, our second victor, won. I can just picture it now: Forty-eight kids standing on their pedestals, quivering in fear, knowing that they're likely going to die. Not to mention that you had a much higher chance to perish.

President Amanda pulled an envelope marked '75' on it.

"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that there is no escape from the Capitol, the districts had to reap their tributes from citizens aged 16 to 35." Her voice did not even waver for a second.

That was the most recent Quarter Quell until now. It was also when our third victor, Katniss Everdeen, won. Her archery was the top factor on how she won those games. Her grief about how she was unable to volunteer to save her sister in time, and witnessing her death at the hands of the 74th Hunger Games' victor, Cato Hadley, perhaps sent her off the edge.

President Amanda reached into the battered wooden box for the final time, picking up an envelope that was labeled '100' on it. This was the moment I was dreading yet oddly excited about at the same time.

President Amanda's unwavering voice boomed out, "As a reminder to the rebels that it is thanks to the Capitol's generosity and mercy that the districts live on, the Capitol's indomitable power over the districts, and that the districts answer to the Capitol, not to themselves - there will be two victors this year. However, they must be opposite genders and from different districts. If the final two tributes originate from the same district or are the same gender, there may only be one victor.

The TV turned off, a Capitol emblem appearing momentarily, then fading out to a blank black screen. I thought back to the previous Quarter Quells. It seemed that our district, the poorest of them all, and the laughing stock of Panem, had a real knack for winning the Quarter Quells. I was pondering if we might win this year, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced at my grandmother, who was looking at me.

"Rain, my grandson… this might be our year…" my tired grandma spoke.

I responded, "Yes, grandma. This WILL be our year. It just has to be."

A voice called from the kitchen. My mother. My father already came home from work, and he headed straight to bed, conked out. I couldn't blame him, I guess. Now he worked and specialized in medicine, which I occasionally helped him with. This was now our district's secondary industry. The Capitol, out of supposed generosity, has now permitted children to work in the mines or in the newly established medicine factory. if they wish, although many more accidents have occurred. On the other hand, our performance in the Hunger Games has improved - even to the point of us getting another victor.

Lukas Sirius, the victor of the 90th Hunger Games. He won by turning the deactivated pedestal mines into bombs he could chuck at his opponents, with the help of the female tribute of District 3, his ally. Despite our secondary industry, we're still extremely poor, especially for people living in the Seam like us. After his victory, his entire family was executed for his bomb stunt - despite a boy from 3 reactivating the mines in the 74th Hunger Games, as I saw from reruns.

"Rain, sweetie, go to sleep early. The Reaping is tomorrow. Please go tell Aiden the same thing. Thank you, hon." my mother shouted from the kitchen.

I walked up the stairs up to our shared bedroom. I found Aiden laying down, quivering. I slipped into bed, and felt someone tapping my back.

"...Rain, the reaping is tomorrow... I'm scared, what if I'm picked?" Aiden said with fear present in his voice.

"Aiden, you won't be picked, you've only got one little slip of paper. You will not get picked, I promise. Now go to sleep early. It'll be OK." I reassured him, thinking of my twenty-five entries due to tesserae. I took one for me, one for my brother, one for my mother, and one for my father. The odds were most certainly not in my favor.

I closed my eyes as sleep claimed me, sinking into the darkness.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Will upload the next chapter soon.