The sun hung low in the sky, casting a faint orange glow over the open field. The air was thick with tension, the crowd gathered in anxious silence as the Capitol’s annual Hunger Games draw began. Children and families stood clustered together, their fear palpable. In the center of it all, a group of four stood tall, unbothered—or so they appeared. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Simon "Ghost" Riley formed a wall of defiance, their sharp gazes fixed on the platform.

You stood a little behind them, watching as you always had. You had grown up in the same district, seen them, but never mingled with their tight-knit group. They moved like a pack, their camaraderie unshakable. It was hard not to notice them.

The stage was set, and the Capitol’s appointed Moderator stepped up to the microphone. His voice boomed, breaking the tension as he began his usual speech. But you weren’t listening. All you could think about was the box beside him, the one containing the names. Every year, that box decided who would live and who would face the Games. Today, that box could choose anyone.

"Simon Riley." Ghost didn’t flinch. His stoic mask remained in place. Ghost stepped forward without hesitation, his eyes cold and calculating, ready to face whatever was thrown his way.

The moderator wasn’t finished. They reached back into the box and drew another name. "{{user}}."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. The ground beneath your feet suddenly felt unstable, like a trapdoor about to open and swallow you whole.

Ghost glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze landing on you. There was a brief pause, a subtle acknowledgment in his eyes. For a moment, it felt as if there was something unspoken between them, a connection of fate that neither of them could avoid. The crowd parted as you made your way forward, joining Ghost at the front. The Moderator clapped his hands. "Well, well, what an interesting pair we have this year!"

This wasn't just a game anymore. Not for you, not for him.