Author Games: Trial By Fire

Becoming a Winner - Victor Forger#26th

"This is my favourite moment, that moment a tribute... becomes a Victor," ~ Ceaser Flickerman.

Name: Victor Forger

Age: 65

Personality: once cold and distant, time has mellowed this old warrior and now he no longer feels the need to be the centre of attention. He is still very proud of himself and his district, although some people say he’s going soft in his old age. Not to his face, though. He’s still respected. He took the rather brave step of marrying his district partner’s sister a few years after he won, and he has been fiercely loyal to her ever since.

District: 2

Physical Description: tall and stately, with short choppy-ish brown hair that just doesn’t seem to go grey. He was something of a heartthrob in his youth. He has the tip of an ear missing; it was chopped off in the last moments of his Games.

Celeb and link: Scott Bakula 

Games they won: 26th

Weapon and skills: throwing knives

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Victor of District Two - IwaspromisedCake

People don’t watch me walking down the street the way they used to. I still walk tall and strong; I won’t seem weak. I can still throw knives better than just about anybody, or why else would I be an instructor? I taught that girl Clove everything she knew. But I’m just an old man. It’s all about these hot-headed young things now. Cato, that was the lad. Clove should have had it; that lass was one of the most deadly I’ve seen.

Anyway, nobody remembers my Games. But as the oldest living Victor in District 2 – and the Capitol played up my name no end  – and the third quell coming up, I have to tell the story. Remind these kids that it’s not just about the young.

You have no idea what it feels like, you lot. You’re all used to the Games now. You don’t know what it was like early on, when people could remember the rebellion, remember before the Games. You don’t have to prove yourself the way I did. That was back when we were still reaped, occasionally.

That moment that you realise; everything you have worked for, your whole life for the last eight years, has been leading up to this. This year, one of you will taste it, I’m sure. It’s sweet but scary too. I’ll admit to being scared. You’d be a fool if you weren’t – are you listening back there? Good – because if you’re scared, you’re thinking.

The grass stretched on for miles, not a tree in sight. I knew it was between me and the girl from 7. I’ve forgotten her name; hasn’t everyone? We were tired. We were hungry. And she had the advantage.

You can’t kill an enemy you can’t see.

She had to be there somewhere, somewhere in all the grass swishing around my waist. I remember striding through it, a hot-tempered young lad, hoping that the cameras were getting my best angle. All of Panem was watching, finally. This was my time to shine.

And I very nearly lost it.

Something grabbed my leg, sending me into the floor with a crash and a mouthful of earth and grass. Wincing, I could just about see a face, strands of grass stuck all over it until it didn’t even look human. Camouflage. I should have remembered that she was good at that in training.

An axe head glinted in the sun.

My knife was cool in my hand, comforting. I only had seconds, but I was quicker in those days. She had to raise the axe to use it, exposing her torso. Instinct kicked in, that last push. My mind blank of everything except the moment, years of conditioning finally useful, I yanked the knife up, carving a cavity in her chest as the axe thudded down over my ear. The cannon went immediately, my victory cannon.

And that is how I won, way back when. Now, don’t you have training to go to?

Make us proud.