The Loric Games

Chapter 3: Not My Kind of Design

  Christina's (Number Ten)  POV 

         I fix my hair in the mirror. I'm fed up the Capitol already. I know why all seven of us, with the exception of  Ella, are in the games this year. The Mogadorians are working with the Capitol in order to exterminate us. I'm sure President Snow thought this would be the best way to ally with the Mogs is by putting us in their Hunger Games. Little does Snow realize that as soon as all of us Lorics are gone, the Mogs will enslave the people more than they already have. Snow will most likely realize that his precious Panem will be reduced to nothing with the snap of Setrakus Ra's fingers. Not that people on this side of the globe realize that there's been a war raging on the other continents. A war of intergalactic proportions.

       All eleven of us were brought to Earth when we young. Our planet, Lorien was destroyed by the Mogadorians only a handful of us and our Cepans made it off alive. When we landed, the humans that greeted us warned us to never move to Panem. Here we had free will and not be sentenced to death. Although we as kids, were physically superior to most humans we would not survive the games until our legacies came in. Even then, the risk of being discovered was too great to go anywhere near the dystopian society. All eleven of us have been hiding in Europe and all over the rest of world, with the exception of Panem, aka North America. There's been nothing, but corruption and oppression in Panem, while the rest of the world seems fairly civilized and normal. The other governments have not even dared to try and take over Panem because although humble on the outside, Snow is malicious and calculating with the threat of nuclear weapons and the lives of thousands of people who live in his world at his disposal. That is a man made of pure evil. The only person worse than him is Setrakus Ra himself.

        It wasn't until that the first three of the Garde were attacked and nearly killed that we were  low on options for places to run. We all lost our Cepans and we were left to find each other. We gained our legacies and human allies along the way, including my boyfriend Blake. We were finally making progress as a team until Setrakus Ra came to Earth

         The eleven of us met up not long ago, but the Mogs came after us quite quickly. They threw just about everything they could after us, we were winning until Ra came after us himself. He cancelled all of our legacies and we knew we had to run. We barely escaped with our lives. As a consequence, we had to adapt new identities and split into the districts. I found it kind of funny that we picked our corresponding numbers, all except Ella, Three, and I. Three and Marina went to the 7th district together and Ella stayed with me.  We decided at least two or more of us needed to stay together. It was only supposed to be temporary, but when the Mogs began hunting us in Panem, they joined with Snow and thought the best way to avoid a war was to kill us in the games. I could read the announcer's thoughts and he was instructed to say our names, no matter whose name he/she picked. Fortunately, Eight and John saw this ahead of time and we had come up with a proper plan.

        Of course, Snow has no idea what we have planned or what we're capable of. We're going to use the Games as a way of rallying allies against the Mogadorians and start the rebellion to free these people from their oppression. If we can get some of the Tributes in these games too, if they don't kill each other first. I've seen the first two districts, there's no hope there, but the outer districts may want the chance to come out of this alive.

        But until the games, we're stuck acting like the regular tributes and that includes being mentored by idiots and putting on these ugly costumes. I don't really understand what the point is dressing up in costumes and parading us around like show dogs. Our "mentors" tell us it's to gain sponsors, but with the eight of us, we can take care of ourselves. I'm District Ten so that means livestock The drunken stylist wants us dressed up like cowboys, but it makes me want to hurl. I want something more invigorating, less stupid and more creative. Fortunately, I have a great sense of style. I have a few hours until the parade and my stylist is too drunk to care what we do, so I decide to sneak down from the tower.