A/N: Welcome, everybody, to the Sinners and Saints SYOT collaboration! We have four authors working on the story; LadyCordeliaStuart, JaymanRepublic, SilverflowerXRavenpaw, and myself, tracelynn (Tracee). We will all be writing parts of this. I wrote a prologue to get things started. You might notice I'm trying to do a different writing style from my other stuff, so hopefully it works out okay XD Please enjoy, and next chapter will be the tribute list. There is a lot more information about submitting, etc. on the bottom. Enjoy!

Ester Miliam, 16 - District Six Citizen

"Ester!" my mother calls from the end of the hall, standing by the door out of our house. She's dressed in the plain white dress she wears every Sunday, and she fingers the silvery cross pendant that hangs from her neck. "Your father and I are waiting!"

"Coming, mother!" I shout from my room. I quickly put up my light blonde hair in a ponytail before jogging over to the door out of our apartment, my cornflower blue dress swirling around me. My mother opens the door, and we walk swiftly together down the dimly lit hallways of the apartment complex. There's crashes and shouts galore, screams and moans too. Drugs are prominent and crime is imminent. It's the reason the good Lord has put us here, to heal all the wounds and sores of our drug addled District. At least that's what Father says.

Speaking of Father, he's waiting at the top of the stairwell, impatiently tapping the ground with his dull old dress shoes. When we arrive, his face brightens, and he takes my mother's hand and guides her down the stairs. I click down right behind them.

"Reginald, did you grab money for the collection?" my mother inquires calmly when we reach the end of the stairwell. We walk through a shady lobby and out of the greasy front doors as Father uncomfortably pats around his pockets. He grins once he sticks his hand into the breast pocket of his flannel dress shirt, retrieving the three folded bills that are stashed there.

"It's not much, but it's all we can give. The Lord understands," Father says gravely. His eyes dart suspiciously around at the darkened alleyways and smoggy skies and smeared windows and packs of hoodlums, and I wonder why God sent us here. We might as well already be in Hell.

Father keeps checking his old rusted watch as we walk stiffly down the street. The church is nearby, tucked into a gloomy corner between a liquor store and an abandoned, bombed out apartment complex, a standing relic of the Dark Days. Since it's so close to home, we don't have an excuse to be late. We make our way even quicker towards our place of worship. My mother glances up distastefully at the sign propped above the doorway into the building; it reads "Schapp's Auto Parts." Our religion is not encouraged here. The Capitol and their stern Peacekeepers do not tolerate us proclaiming the good word openly. As long as we keep our worship hidden, they leave us be. It's not the way any of us like it; the love of God could cure every pitiful deadbeat that lurks on the streets here in Six if we were allowed to open their hearts to Him. But we cannot. At least we can still profess our devotion every Sunday.

A little bell rings above the door when we walk in. Sister Thurbes waits behind the counter, and nods at us with a slim smile. She and Pastor Axle, her cousin, run the small parish, and there's about forty of us in this neighborhood who come here. We walk past the dusty waiting room and Sister, using the back door nestled in the shadows to enter the church proper.

A haphazard collection of seven dozen folding chairs, benches, and stools are crowded in a smallish backroom. The altar is near the back wall, and Pastor Axle sits behind it. About two dozen other parishioners are already here. We take our seats, and I look around a little sadly at the glum room around me. We do not have some of the furnishings of the Christians of the past. Their huge cathedrals and glittering stained glass windows no longer stand.

As the last people trickle in, Sister enters and closes the door. The Mass has begun. Pastor clears his throat to begin, but suddenly the doors bang open and several men dressed in black and navy pour into the room, their faces obscured by bright red kerchiefs. Two hold pistols in their hands, and a woman lets loose a shocked scream as one jostles her and aims at her forehead to fire.

I can't even believe it as the gunshots start filling my ears. Pastor Axle falls across the altar, and my father shields me with his body. I curl up in a ball, sobbing, as the screams echo in my ears and I try to disappear. I make myself stop crying, and I feel something warm and wet against my side. Blood. My father's blood.

My God, protect me. Please.

Paccator Pristis, 45 - Head Gamemaker

I yawn as I sit at the island in my spacious kitchen, flipping through articles on my touchpad. My wife, Noxa, is sitting next to me, instructing the Avox to take away our cleared plates. The red haired man, silenced by the removal of his tongue, bobs his head and carefully takes away our dishes. He scurries over to the sink and, as quietly as Avoxly possible, scrubs them clean before drying them and placing them back in the cabinets.

I swipe through news on my touchpad. Political scandals, blah blah blah, celebrity scandals, blah blah blah. President Dolus shot down my idea of a grassland arena (I know we did it two years ago, and two years before that, but it makes for more slaughter! Nowhere to hide!) so I have to come up with something else, and soon. So I'm skimming everything I can find for inspiration. I've lost the spark over the years I guess. I used to be able to dish out arenas like nothing.

One article, newly minted, catches my eye as it pops onto the screen. 48 Killed in Terrorist Shooting in District Six. I open the article and begin to read.

A group of terrorists has exposed a group of "Christians" and has shot 48 of them to death earlier this morning. These terrorists have made similar attacks in other sectors of Six, as well as in parts of Eight, Nine, and Eleven. All groups attacked call themselves "Christians"; they claim to believe in some otherworldly God, and they profess their faith through something called Mass, where they read a book called the Bible. Whatever strange District tradition this is, it is being targeted around Panem it seems. Further investigation is underway.

"Since when did Dolus send the Peacekeepers to eliminate religion in the Districts?" I ask my wife. She's a key player in Panem's military, and probably knows about this. There's no way any of those District buffoons have enough coordination to put together that many orchestrated attacks in that many Districts.

"After it came to his attention at a briefing two weeks ago," Noxa replies, sighing. "He thinks it might be a seed of rebellion, so he's having Peacekeepers masquerade as terrorists and take a chunk out of their numbers, and scare them into submission. They're already all in hiding, and they don't cause trouble, but Dolus is never satisfied. You must know that," she scoffs.

"I do," I mutter, my eyes alight. "This gives me just the idea, Noxa," I announce. I turn my touchpad back on, and I pull up the phone function and hit Dolus's name under my contacts list. I hold up the slim piece of tech to my ear and wait for the President of Panem to answer.

"Yes, Paccator? Have something that won't disappoint me?" President Dolus sneers once he answers.

"I do sir. I really do," I reply, on cloud nine. This will be the best one yet.

A/N: That was fun! I'm guessing the arena should be easier to guess now if the title wasn't enough to help you out.

This is going to be a first come, first serve type of story, just because we want to fill up quickly and not have to waste people's time by turning down submissions they spend a lot of time on.

There is no set form, really. If you want something of structure, you can just PM us and we'll supply one. The next chapter will be an example form that you can use if you want, and the chapter after that will be the tribute list.

Keep in mind that this is an earlier Games. Careers are uncommon at this point; there will not be any in this story. So please do not submit a Career to any District.

Enjoy your submitting! Three of us have written/are writing a SYOT, and two of us have completed one before, so believe us when we say we will finish this story for sure. Once we have some tributes we'll start writing, and we have a system in place for who writes what. If you're interested in which writers are writing each District, that information is located on the tribute list page :) We'll be waiting to see your guys's submissions! :D

- SinnersXSaints