The Criminal's War: The European Hunger Games

The Criminal's War: The European Hunger Games

In the ruins of a place once known as Europe lies the region of Lavinia, made up of ten different countries; Britannia, which governs Lavinia, Germania, Frankland, Swizlova, Latinia, Austino, Ukresia, Estolavia, Ruska, and Polskina, which was responsible for the one and only horror of Lavinia, the Criminal's War. The Criminal's War is a series of games held every two years, in which fifty criminals are placed in the arena to kill each other off. There are no winners. Only death.

Chapter 1

The Storm

Greta Pyne's POV

I tie one last knot into my fishing net. I don't want any getting away today. Life in District 4 has calmed down considerably since Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay, won the war and the Capitol fell. Only a year ago, I was starving with my little brothers and my parents, and now I can fish for myself and my family, not for the Capitol. I look at the ocean right outside my window, ready to get into my boat and start fishing.
"Greta!" Dad calls from the kitchen. "Greta, I think you should stay here today, there's supposed to be a storm coming soon."
"Come on, Dad, you know that the weatherman is never right!" I protest. "I'll be back tomorrow, and I promise I'll have plenty of food! Winter's coming soon, and we can't be too prepared!" Without listening for a reply, I'm out the door with my satchel full of food and my net properly tied. Dad is such a worrywart. I won't get hurt. And at the first sign of a storm, I'll head straight home!
I get into my boat and pushed off the dock. It's a sturdy vessel, weathered to the point at which one might begin to believe it's nothing more than an old piece of junk, but I know better. My dad built it with his own two hands, and it is possibly the best fishing boat in all of District 4. I row out to a rock, which I believe is a good spot, and I put my net in the water.
Time flies as I pull in the net time and time again to find absolutely nothing. I don't realize I'm in the dark of night until I hear the rumble of thunder. And I also realize that I haven't eaten anything all day. I laugh as my stomach gurgles. I had mistaken it for thunder. I continue fishing. But then I hear thunder again, and I look up. The sky is now very ominous, and I decide I should probably start heading back. I look for the beach, but I suddenly realize I've drifted. A lot. I can barely see the beach now. I start rowing back, but the rain begins. As if to add to the feeling of my impending doom, thunder rumbles once more and my boat capsizes.
I struggle underneath the water, trying to remember everything my dad taught me about this situation. He didn't say much. His advice had been: if you are in a storm, get out. That's not helping me much. I climb on top of my boat and check to see what I still have. My satchel is still with me and-
My net! I need my net! I look over the side and see that it's floating a few feet away. I need my net! I can't go home and tell my dad I lost it! I dive in and grab it, then swim back to the boat, but the water is picking up in speed, and before I know it, I'm lost at sea. I flip the boat over, and hop in it, but I'm so exhausted that I practically faint.


I wake up, totally disoriented. I look around, and the storm seems to have disappeared. But the only problem is that I'm surrounded by water. Just water. I am nowhere near land. I have drifted farther than I ever knew existed. I look in my bag. I have plenty of food, and.... I sigh with relief. Water. I have lots of water. And in case that runs out, I have the equipment I need to boil the salt water. And chances are it will rain. I have my net in case the food runs out. In short: I can make it. I can survive for a while, hopefully long enough to reach land. And if I can make a sail...
I quickly take off my jacket and take out my knife. I stretch it out to full length, then rip off one of those annoying strands that hangs out. I toss my net into the water, my hands moving numbly, without thinking. I pull in a few fish, and I keep one and toss the others away. I cut my jacket into pieces, pull a bone out of the fish, and sharpen it. I take the long strand and begin sewing all the pieces together. I open my bag and pull out my fishing rod. In any other circumstance, I would be a fool to take it apart. But I still have my net. I set to work, and when I’m finished, I have a makeshift sail. I tie it to the side of the boat. I look out to the ocean. If I’m lucky, I can make it. But I have no clue how long it will take for me to get back to Panem.

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