AN: So I finally broke down and decided to make an SYOT, after 3 years of wanting to create one. I've been particularly itching to write one in the past few months, which manifested me in submitting tributes to a crapload of SYOTS.

Anyways. Winter break is in a week, and it's the longest span of time I'll have to write this thing, other than summer break. So by next week, I hope to have enough tributes to start this thing.

Anyways, here's a prologue to show my writing style, and setting up for this fic.

Edit: Hohohoooooly shit, I got flooded with forms in just 3 days, submissions CLOSED unless I pm someone for an exception

Prologue: The 20th Victor

Marcus 'Tact' Gnaeus, Victor of the 1st Annual Hunger Games, D2

He was supposed to be retired. He shouldn't be dragged to the Capitol any more.

But The Capitol just didn't seem to understand that. They didn't seem to catch on to the distinct fact that he no longer wanted to be dragged out of his hole of self-loathing and mental torture.

And Marcus wasn't exactly the most tactful of people. It was the 'kinder' reason why his nickname was Tact. (The other being that he was called that by fellow war veterans in his District, for his tactical plans.)

But then again, perhaps the Capitolites didn't seem to get the message because he was the most stiff and respectful Victor to the Capitol. Habits were hard to break, after all. In his youth, he was a child soldier, fighting against the Rebels. When he was 18, he became the first Victor of the Hunger Games, doing everything for the Capitol, loved and adored by them.

Perhaps this is part of his everlasting punishment for his sins. Even when District 2 held three Victors—held another to take his place in Mentoring for the rest of his miserable life—he was still dragged back to the Capitol.

Perhaps that's what would happen, every time the Hunger Games held an anniversary. For now, it's for two decades. Next, it will be for two dozen. Then the 25th. Then for three decades. And on and on it'll go. Until the day he dies.

There's no escaping for him. That option was long lost to him, ever since he was Reaped.

No, even before that. When he illegally enlisted himself, all those years ago. When he fought and killed and rose up the ranks quickly. That had captured the interest of President White, enough to have his name rigged into the bowl, so he could kill the Rebel Tributes in the Arena. That's what damned him.

But Marcus found time to slip away from the bustle and interviews and constant attention from the Capitol. He ended up inside Victor Sirona's room—the woman who won the Games the year after him—and comforted her over her Tributes' deaths.

They comforted each other, held each other, lying on her bed. They always held a very strong relationship, a concrete understanding. They were the first two Victors, and the only ones who couldn't properly move on from their sins—until Red won the 7th Annual Hunger Games. But even by then, Marcus and Sirona were inseparable companions.

Just companions. They held no romantic inclinations towards one another, too hollow to love.

The two woke up at some vaguely proper hour in the morning, and went down together to check up on the other Victors. The Victors held their own special floor, where they could stay to monitor the Games and their Tributes. It held a manned bar that served alcohol and strong coffee, and a kitchen that produced any convenient meal they desired.

No one questioned Marcus' presence, when he entered alongside Sirona, despite his retired status. They all knew he was dragged here to the Capitol, constantly bombarded with interviews.

The majority of the Victors in the room watched the screens projecting the Games in silence. It seems like they were nearing the end—only three kids left. The Career boy from 1, the girl from 9, and the young boy from 10. This year, either Niveus or Buddy will finally gain a fellow Victor so they won't be alone. That, or Angel and Mediah's efforts on the intense training they offered District 1 children will finally bear fruit.

They watched as the Career boy finally found the young, sludge-covered boy hiding in a section of the swamp. A chase soon ensued, where the younger boy expertly weaved around the dangers of the swamp. However, the older boy had grander stamina, and was gaining.

Then the younger boy finally veered out into the more obviously dangerous part of the Arena—the area of erupting geysers. But the 10 boy miscalculated—and stepped right onto a geyser that barely erupted under his feet.

Buddy cried out loudly in dismay, staring horrified at the large screens. Some of the others patted the lone Victor from 10 on the back, murmuring condolences.

Marcus' eyes narrowed, however, as he kept watching the geysers.

"He's alive," he stated. "There wasn't a cannon."

"But no one could survive that!" Woof exclaimed; as always, he held no filter when he spoke.

"No, Marcus is right," Niveus spoke, eyes narrowed suspiciously, as he finally took his gaze off of his Tribute's progress. "See that shadow, down there?" he said, jabbing a long finger at a small mass by the base of the geyser that had seemingly killed the young 10 boy.

"Oh my Lord," Buddy uttered, looking torn, as if he didn't know what to feel on his Tribute barely surviving the boiling-hot geyser.

"He won't last long, though," Red spoke up quietly. "I assume that he's barely alive."

"Red's right…The injuries the poor boy would've sustained…He's barely holding on," Sirona inputted, staring at pity at the screen.

Everyone's attention—minus Buddy and a morbidly curious Marcus— then shifted away from the young 10 boy, who would likely die from the pain soon. The room stared at the confrontation that the 1 boy and 9 girl were about to have.

"This'll be our year…!" Angel chimed giddily, a large, excitable smile on her face.

"He's been one of our few fully-trained students that we've had," her husband and fellow Victor, Mediah, said. He rubbed calming circles on her back with one hand.

Oddly enough, despite her weaker state and build, the girl caught the boy off-guard. She threw a canister of swamp gunk at his eyes, and then pounced when he was distracted. Smart. After a large struggle, she managed to finally slit his throat.

But no announcement came.

The young boy had survived, just as Marcus had stated.

Niveus and Buddy stared enraptured at the screens, tense. Buddy, over the probable death of his poor, suffering Tribute. Niveus, over the almost miraculous event of being able to save someone, despite all the blood on his hands.

The girl trekked slowly through the plateaus, wary. As she neared the geysers, something unexpected happened—at least, unexpected to the girl, and all those who hadn't been watching for the other boy.

From a small niche in the geyser-spewing plateau, jumped out a small figure, right behind her. It was the boy who had stepped on the geyser earlier. His entire body was gruesomely twisted and burned.

The boy lunged at the girl, whose back was turned. He stabbed her with a sharpened rock, and using the momentum, shoved her into an awaiting geyser.

The entire room was tense and dead-silent, the only sound coming from the broadcast, in the form of a loud boom of a canon.

"With an incredible finale, Tazmithius Emerald is the Victor of the 20th Annual Hunger Games!" crowed the announcer.

"Holy shit, that was unexpected," Woof commented in an awed whisper.

"Victor…Taz… He survived… I finally…Almost two decades…" Buddy muttered, shocked and incoherent. Marcus didn't blame him—he had felt a similar way when Riyo finally won the 14th Games, and he wasn't alone any longer as the lone Victor from District 2.

The entire room watched as the hovercraft gently lifted the newest Victor, who was smiling like a loon. Marcus noted that it looked nightmarish, considering how his entire face was black and red and twisted.

The broadcast kept rolling, instead of cutting off, like expected. The 20th Victor told the attendants in the hovercraft he wanted to keep some semi-healed scars on his body, maybe on his arms and legs. He said this with a polite please and thank you, and even a bright smile that stretching his cracking skin, to boot.

Then the boy's vibrant green eyes rolled to the back of his head. The adrenaline most likely ran its course, and he finally passed out from his injuries. Those on the craft were frantic, trying to get the burned boy on a gurney and shipped to an emergency room.

The broadcast ended with the doors of the large emergency room on the hovercraft shutting, cutting off the frantic orders of the doctors and surgeons inside.

Buddy stood abruptly, eyes glazed, mouth agape, his entire being quivering.

"Go to him. See if he's getting the proper treatment," Red stated, voice logical and sympathetic, as he took the usually sunny man by the shoulders and gently led him towards the door.

Halfway to the door, Buddy finally snapped out of his reverie. "Taz!" he exclaimed, as he bolted out towards the elevator in a frenzy.

The tenseness shattered, and the Victors finally went around, talking amongst themselves. Red and Sirona put their heads together, talking over Taz's injuries, trying to think of how the Capitol doctors would treat him. Those that created the training academies and cemented the still-recent phenomena of Careers grouped together—minus Mags and Marcus, who both went to give emotional support to Niveus.

After all, Niveus went a decade working by himself, and just had the opportunity of a partner yanked from him. District 9 had rarely had any Tributes reach the finale, even including himself into the statistics.

There was also the fact that Marcus felt him and Niveus to be very similar. They both became absolute monsters, never forgetting their sins, always wallowing in their destructive thoughts in near isolation.

But before he went and spoke with the devastated man, Marcus noted that amongst all the discussion stood the previous year's winner, alone, staring at the exit.

"I guess I've finally got someone younger than me around here, for next year," Homini Laridge, Victor of the 19th Annual Hunger Games, noted. She gave a small grin. "Congrats, kid. You're the 20th Victor."

Marcus wasn't sure if he would be congratulating Taz as well. But he did commend the boy for keeping a physical reminder of his time in the Arena, of the horrors he underwent.

So, he supposes… Congratulations for being the 20th Victor, Tazmithius Emerald.