Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 1 - Smile, You're on Camera! (AR)

Aikin was not one to get worked up over things. He was not one to think too much on one thing at a time, not one to devote his precious brain cells to figuring out a way to solve some irrelevant issue. He would lay low and wait for someone else to step up to fix the problem, even if he himself had already developed a solution.

In this case, however, the case of waiting, the case of an endless wait surrounded by people that would be thirsting for his blood in just a few days, people that would be satisfying that thirst by bringing his open veins to their lips like vampires, no one could do anything. Not only was he waiting for his trip to the arena, he was waiting for an interview. But, unlike previous years before, the tributes weren't permitted to watch the interviews before them. Only the hungry eyes of the Capitol citizens were able to see his opponents.

And everyone was freaking out. Everyone excluding himself, of course. He was indifferent about the situation. Almost indifferent--he had to admit that his curiosity had been tweaked in the slightest. Okay, maybe more than that, but that was of no one's concern. His curiosity was insignificant in the plethora of emotions floating in the air above his head. Tension. Anger. Fear.

All of this was clear in the way everyone sat, the way they stood. Some slouched against the wall. Others shifted from foot to foot, back and forth, some knees almost buckling beneath them. Although they tried to hide their nervousness, Aikin knew how they really felt. And it seemed he was the only one unaffected by it all. Physically, that is; despite his permanently slouched shoulders--from grueling hours of carrying heavy logs--he held an air of confidence in a room of secretly panicked people. But I'm curious, which makes me no different from them.

Aikin didn't blame them, with their clammy hands and all: this was a make-it or break-it moment in terms of sponsorship. But really, he didn't care about sponsorship. In the arena, survival was based primarily on if you could run, if you could hunt, and if you could fight. Sure, there were other valuable skills, but those three were the most important. If you can't run, you get stabbed. If you can't hunt, you get weak, and you either get stabbed or starve. If you can't fight, again, you get stabbed. At any time there could be a knife in someone's back. But they aren't worried about any of it. No, they're all more focused on impressing the Capitol.

Aikin nearly scoffed but caught himself before it broke through. That was close.

The buzzer signaling the end of an interview rang out through the hall of anxious tributes, along with a bored voice through an intercom that said, "District Seven, Camellia Carpenter, you're up."

A dainty girl with white hair pushed off the wall and strutted her way over to a door at the end of the hall, where some strange man opened the door, his lips stretched into an unnatural smile. He slammed the door behind her before anyone could sneak a peek of the stage. They're being pretty secretive this time around... 

Aikin sighed. He finally showed a sign of frustration, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glancing at the ceiling. He felt cramped here. Too many people. Too many sweaty people, at that. Two minutes until I find out what's going on.

A deliberate cough came from beside him. Aikin already knew what was coming. He'd been through this time and time again, all with the same result. This would be no different.

Someone poked his arm but he continued to stare straight ahead. Leave me alone, whoever you are. I just want to be alone.

Another cough, another poke, and Aikin had given in to rolling his eyes. He moved his gaze over to the door, waiting impatiently for his district partner's time to be done, and for his to begin. C'mon, get me out of here...Don't open your mouth, don't do it, ma'am...