Chapter One: Innocent

Blayne awoke with a garbled groan as the train stopped suddenly. Remembering the circumstance that placed him on the train, he sat up and rubebed his heavily lashed eyes wearily. Sleeping was basically impossible at this point. After sleeping for days when he should have been discussing things with his team, he felt unprepared for the night. He stood, reaching his full height of 6 feet, and stretched. A loud yawn escaped his mouth and he looked himself over in the fancy Capitol mirrors, not that he was complaining. The seventeen year old was born for this, literally. His mother was a Hunger Games victor, meaning it was in his blood. He wasn't about to disappoint his District.

He was from District 2. Masonry. His broad shoulders and towering stature showed it was true. His partner, a dark skinned girl named Tiffany, was tiny, however. If Blayne cared about her, he'd be worried that her size would affect her chances at winning. Blayne didn't care, he was raised to not care. About anything. The only thing keeping him breathing, in his District's eyes, was training for the Games. He was a sure-fire win, apparently.

Blayne ran a hand through his unruly black curly hair, hazel eyes still bleary with sleep. It was early in the morning, too early for anyone on this train to be up. But sometimes sleep was so out of reach. He pulled on a pair of black pants and a dark red shirt, preferring comfort rather than 'prettying' himself up for the cameras that were surely everywhere. Quickly using the hygiene products the Capitol offered, he slipped on his black boots and opened the door without a single creak. All of his doors at hom creaked.

Stepping down the hallway, he was greeted with his mentor, Wright, a winner from a few years back that everyone called by his liast name, watching the Reapings from other Districts. He was on 3 right then.

Blayne sat beside him without a single word and watched as a petite dark haired, Latina looking girl was called, hair pulled back in a wavy ponytail. Her name was Alex and appeared to be around fourteen. There was almost a gleam in her eye Blayne couldn't place, and he mentally marked her on his threat list. A gangly, tall brunette boy was called, Connor, and he seemed too nice to do any real harm. Both were from the electronic district, a sign they could be somewhat useful to the Careers (whom Blayne already considered himself a part of.)

"What do you think?" Wright asked softly, though all walls were soundproof.

"The girl seems swift. The boy seems like he'll topple over at any second," Blayne mused, being what he thought was honest. He'd never learned that no one was as they seemed.

"I wouldn't count them out," Wright warned. "They could make a bomb that blows you to bits in the blink of an eye."

"Mm," Blayne made a noise of approval. Suddenly the screen changed to District 4, where it was cloudy and windy. It seemed kind of chilly, too, by the sheer number of coats they were wearing. Most of them were dark headed, with light eyes, Blayne recalled from his history books. He watched as a man with silly colors on beam at the District, most who appeared dreary. Though, some did appear like they wanted to be there.

The silly man cleared his throat and said in a high, lilting voice, "Hannah Gay?"

Laughs were heard as a small girl with blonde hair and very pale skin was literally pushed to the front. She looked to be on the verge of tears and people began cheering, a custom for the Career districts, but here it seemed more mocking than congratulatory. The camera zoomed in on Hannah, and Blayne noted with apprehension that her features were quit distinctive. A square, pale face, large, sea green eyes, a small button nose, a pretty mouth. If he wasn't destined to murder her he might find her somewhat decent to look at.

"Tanner Lloyd?" The man said once pulling out a name. Tanner, however, looked like a threat. He also had a strong jawline, with straight brown hair and tan skin. He looked toned, like a fisher. Hannah didn't awknowledge her, just looked out at the crowd. The Reapings continued, and there wasn't anyone of real interest until District 8- fabrics. A curly haired girl was called out as the girl tribute. "Maia Hamilton!"

Blayne whistled. "She must work out, she looks strong, but in a buff way..." he thought aloud.

"She dances," Wright grinned. "People in District 8 don't work out. They dance, or do yoga, or do whatever." Her male counterpart was dark skinned with wavy brown hair, looking completely out of place compared to the blonde people of District 8. He didn't look like he took anything seriously. The Reapings drug on until Wright cut off the television.

"You technically aren't supposed to be watching this," Wright stated. "You shouldn't even be up, actually."

"Couldn't sleep," Blayne grunted out.

"Mm."

"You know, I'm actually worried about that District 4 guy..." Blayne started, but Wright cut him off, a gruff look on his shaved face.

"Don't. Keep in the mindset that you'll win and you will. That's my philosophy."

"Maybe that might not work for me," Blayne said, standing up to go get breakfast, seeing as it was nearing on 6 am.

"It will," Wright said lazily.

"Whatever," Blayne mumbled. He didn't necessarily like Wright, to be honest. He irked him.

"You know you have to prepare for the interviews in a few days!" Wright called out one last time. "Be ready for the stylists, they'll do whatever they want!"

Blayne groaned and grabbed an apple and some water. Basic stuff. Until he saw the table piled high with meats, eggs, vegetables, and pastries. Then he grabbed two plates and stuffed himself until Tiffany walked in, clad in black leggings and firm leather shoes and a long purple tee shirt. She daintly grabbed a plate and got things she knew she liked, before sitting awkwardly across from Blayne. Her short, black hair was pulled back with a headband.

"If I could pick how to die," she started. "It'd be in my sleep."

"Do you trust me or something?" Blayne asked, mouth full.

Tiffany stared at him. "I should at least be able to trust my own partner. If not, then I can just sign my death pardon to get me out of your way. Please. What angle are you going for in the interviews, tall, dark, and stupid?"

Blayne held up his hands in the universal 'I-surrender' geusture. "Chill with the verbal assault."

Tiffany just glared, and stuffed her tiny body with fruit and something called a doughnut. Blayne shook his head. For someone so small she was turning out to be a real threat to his safety as a Career. He couldn't have someon lagging behind him like a puppy for him to win. Maybe being with the Careers wasn't such a good strategy after all...

He rid his head of the thoughts and continued to eat, before Madison, the represenative for District 3, walked in, dressed head to toe in hot pink. "Good morning, tributes!" She perked happily, before saying, "Today we're landing in the Capitol so you can meet your stylists. Trust me, you guys need them."

Tiffany glared and crossed her arms. Blayne rolled his eyes and continued to eat. Man, he was hungry.

"How old are you guys again?" Madison asked.

"Seventeen," Blayne gruffed out as Tiffany mumbled, "Fifteen."

"Great," she smiled. "Well, Wright will be here in a minute to discuss the angles for the interviews and other such pre-Games excitement and publicity and such."

As promised, Wright walked in grumpily and sat himself on Blayne's other side. "Well, I think it's time for you guys to decide what you want to do. Do you want to be coached seperately or together?"

"Together is fine," Blayne said. Tiffany raised an eyebrow. "What? You can trust me."

Wright pursed his lips and changed the subject. "Alright then. Any ideas for the interviews?"

"I want to go for sassy," Tiffany stated. "I want to be the diva and the center of attention. It's not that hard to comprehend."

Blayne tilted his head to the side as Madison smiled. "Perfect!" She said. "You're just like me."

He just said, "I'll be myself."

"So you're going for tough, agressive, and hot tempered?" Wright tried.

Blayne nodded. "Yeah."

Wright sighed. "Go ahead, do whatever, not like I was hired to help you or anything..."

Blayne stepped out of the train compartment to be greeted with what looked like the bottom of a subway in his history books. Wright led them to a door where they stepped into a pristine white elevator, that immediately took them to an unknown floor.

"Wright!" A girl cried, walking over to where Blayne and Tiffany were. "Are these my tributes?"

"Yes," Wright grinned. "Blayne, Tiffany, this is Carlee. She's the overseer of the stylists for District Four."

"Hi!" She grinned, dark hair flicked over her shoulder. "Blayne, your stylist Quinn is waiting for you. Tiffany, Sam is behind that door. I'll see you later to make final adjustments!" She bounced off, and before Blayne could breathe he was being dragged away to a large, open room with various products in it. Honestly, Blayne closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep (he was so tired) as they did random things to his face, hair, and body. When he was awaken, he was freshly shaved, his hair reached his eyebrows again, and he smelled nicer than mortar and tarmac. His eyebrows were shaped and he was so clean it was unnerving. When Quinn walked in, he had the decency to feel self-conscious.

She was very tall (but not taller than him), and blonde, with pink streaks and overly long eyelashes. "Hello," she said in a wispy voice. "I'm Quinn, and I suppose you're Blayne?"

He nodded. She tossed him some solid white clothes that he quickly put on, before Quinn set him down on a stool and began brushing things on his face, muttering things like, "You have great eyes if you look past all of the hatred in them," and "Let's accent natural colors from your District, like metallics."

When he opened his eyes he hardly recognized himself. His eyes stood out way more than he'd ever thought possible, and he had the sneaking suspiscion his eyelashes had been curled. A very thin line of grey eyeliner was applied, though not enough to stand out. His hair was lightly gelled, so as not to resemble a mess, and surprisingly there was a hint of lip color on his lips. He felt both girly and gross but also he thought he looked kind of good, in a way. He was surprised.

Quinn smiled and pulled a hanging bag out of the closet Blayne didn't know was there. "I made this jacket a while ago and was hoping to be placed on District 4 so someone might wear it." She slipped on the various pieces of the suit and when Blayne opened his eyes (he seemed to be doing that a lot lately) he was shocked. The jacket was studded with tiny pick axes, and it was made with smooth leather.

Quinn grinned at his reaction and hugged him tightly. "Good luck tonight."

A knock was heard and Tiffany walked in, hair curled lightly and light metallic makeup applied to her dark features. She was wearing a wrap-around dress made a shimmery grey material and some towering high heels. Blayne admitted she looked amazing. She grabbed his arm and the two followed dapperly behind Quinn, who led them to Carlee (who was waiting with all of the other tributes.)

From a distance, he saw...Hannah was it?...looking stunning in a dress that imitated the sea. Everytime she moved, it looked like the ocean. Blayne was taken aback when she saw him look at him for a moment, her used-to-be long hair cut into a choppy and layered bob. Her eyes once again drew her to him. No eyes were that shade of green by birth, surely, Blayne thought. Beside her, Tanner was in a white suit with a bowtie that too looked like it was made of the sea. He had a game face on, like he knew what he doing.

"Well, at least we look attractive," Tiffany said. "We have one thing going for us."

"Not really..." Blayne said, letting his eyes graze to that stupid girl from District 4. Damn her and her idiotic self. The tributes were led into the stadium where the live interviews were taking place, and everyone took a seat.

Tiffany rolled her eyes and waited to be called out to be interviewed. District 1 was first, and the girl always went before the guy. She looked like she was going for sexy, with heavy lidded eyes and a revealing jewel-tone dress. Blayne never said she pulled it off, considering she was a twig of a girl. Her name was Reagan.

"Yes, I do love to sing!" She said, sitting inappropriately. The boy tribute from 8 was drooling. The girl hit him. The interview continued on and she wasn't memorable, at all. The interviews dragged on, before it was Tiffany's turn to go onstage.

Everyone clapped for her and the interviewer grinned and the two shared a playful banter. Tiffany was great, Blayne admitted. Too bad he'd kill her the first chance he got. She was sassy yet incredibly genuine. Blayne didn't even wait to be called, just walked onstage, and people clapped for him halfheartedly.

"So," the interviewer began. Blayne knew his name, he just forgot it and didn't feel like finding out again. "What do you think will be your biggest strategy for the Games?"

"Offensive," Blayne said automatically.

"So you're a killer?" He asked, hair ridiculously green.

Searching out a familar face in the audience, he was met with Hannah's eyes peering at him. With a clenching feeling in his gut, he answered, "Yes. Yes, yes of course."

"There's always one!" He joked. "Any family back home?"

"No," Blayne said gruffly.

"Well, you must have something you're fighting for. Come on, tell us one person that you think you're doing this for."

"Besides myself?" Blayne raised his eyebrows. Laughter filled the stadium, though he was being serious. "I am fighting for myself. I need this like I need to breathe. I'm supposed to win, yeah, but that means nothing until I actually do. I really want to show that my District doesn't just get handed things. I want to show that we have to fight, too." And whoa, where did that come from? Oh well, it seemed to work because everyone clapped.

"That's admirable," He sniffed, then said, "Let's give a hand for Blayne!" Everyone clapped more, and Tiffany was nodding. Apparently, he was doing good. "How are you liking the Capitol?"

"They're very..." Blayne stated. "Controlling."

Tiffany's eyes widened and Hannah grinned widely. Damn, what if the camera zoomed in on her? They might get crap in the arena.

"Well..." Ceasar began. "Isn't everyone?" People laughed it off and clapped, though Blayne didn't find it funny. "Looks like we're out of time. Give it up for Blayne, District 2!"

The rest of the interviews zoomed by, and Blayne didn't pay attention to them. Except for Tanner and Hannah's. He was felt with a sense of dread, like he just signed his life away by being himself.

But official training began tomorrow. He had to be ready.