Portgas D Ace was running out of time. He had barley managed to get a suitable shirt for the event, still pulling off the wealthy look even though he was nothing but. He mingled with the crowd and his senior equals in the massive school hall, awaiting to be matched with his 'champion'. He was praying to whatever god there was he would get someone, anyone, suitable. Someone from district 1 or 2. As everyone sat down, he grew eager. The dean, and creator of the hunger games, listed off every participating seniors tribute. As the numbers went down, Ace had a feeling of dread. His hopeful face fell, and he froze, when he heard his name matched with the tributes of District 12. How much worse could this get?