The interviews were sooo boring to write. They were in two chapters previously, but I shoved them all into one.
Skipping the scores because who cares about numbers. :P But I did add something else in there…I felt like there needed to be something more between the interviews and the games so I shoved in a ball. XP Don't hate me. I got the idea from Vampire Diaries and I really want to write it. Besides, you get to see more of all the characters…before some of them meet their doom.
After three days of training, and showing off their skills for the Gamemakers, the tributes finally made it to the day before the Hunger Games. On this day, Panem would finally hear what they had to say. Each of them would have a quick interview with the Hunger Games' newest host, a young star called Caesar Flickerman. After interviews, there was a celebration. The tributes, each donning their formal wear from their interview, performed a traditional dance at the ball. Then they were free to enjoy the festivities for a short while, before heading off to bed for a good night's sleep.
Right now, they were lined up backstage, in order of district. It was ladies first, of course, so Channa was at the front. Her stylist had dressed her in a shimmering, champagne-colored evening gown. She couldn't have been more pleased.
The show began and Caesar's voice boomed, "Hello citizens of Panem and welcome to the 42nd annual HUUUUNGER GAAAAAMES!"
The audience burst into a loud round of applause. Caesar was doing a great job, considering it was his first year. He was talented at motivating the crowd.
"Let's not waste any time and get right to our first interview! You saw her volunteer for her own reaping, you saw her shimmer like gold on the chariot ride…but I think it's time we finally heard from here! Let's bring out: Chanpagne Bordeaux!"
Smiling confidently, she walked onto the stage, waving at her adoring fans. She shook Caesar Flickerman's hand—he took it and kissed it—and then the two sat down.
Caesar wore a sparkling blue suit. His hair, lips, and eyelids were all dyed the darkest black, complimenting it. It made him look dangerous, but the wide smile on his face was anything but. "I must say, Chanpagne, I've been so excited to meet you and see your beauty for myself. And I am not disappointed at all. You look positively stunning!"
The audience burst into another round of cheering.
She brought her hand up to her cheek, turning red. "Oh, Mr. Flickerman! You're making me blush."
He laughed and put a hand on her knee. "Well, it's very becoming of you! But enough about that—let's talk Hunger Games! I'm sure you're excited to be here?"
"Oh, yes!" Channa said, smiling and batting her eyelashes as she usually did. "I'm having the time of my life in the Capitol. My mother has always wanted to live here, and now I see why!"
The audience nodded their approval.
"Your mother, eh? She a big fan of the Capitol?"
"Like you wouldn't believe!" Channa rolled her eyes, "She even tries to talk in the accent! But I love her to death. I love all of my family, even my little brat sister." Ohh, Chardonnay was going to hate her for that.
"A family gal. I'm sure they love you too, for coming here to make the Bordeaux name famous. Now there was another question I had…what would you say is your favorite part of staying here?" Caesar asked, looking amused.
"Ohh, Mr. Flickerman! I couldn't possibly decide!" She laughed lightly, "But I guess, if I had to…I would say the beautiful outfits and the delectable meals. I'm going to miss them when I go into the arena."
"Well, you never know! Maybe the arena will contain a salon and a buffet!" Caesar laughed jovially. The audience chuckled on cue, but quieted as he went on, "I know this is daring of me to ask, since competitors never want to give away their secrets, but I'm curious: How do you plan to win the games?"
"I'll tell you." Channa said, lowering her head mysteriously, "But only you."
She leaned towards him and made a big show of whispering some intricate plan to him, while he pulled the appropriate faces, crying out things such as, "No! Are you really?" and "The other tributes had better be careful!" Really, she hadn't told him a plan at all, and just whispered complete gibberish.
But the audience didn't know that and started to make a big fuss, demanding to know what her plan was.
"Sorry, folks!" Caesar shrugged. "You'll just have to wait and find out!"
Channa gave a light laugh. Then a buzzer went off, signaling the end of their interview. Caesar stood up, shaking her hand vigorously.
"Well, I'm afraid that's all the time we have for now. We have to cover twenty-three other tributes. A pleasure talking with you, Miss Bordeaux. Ladies and gentleman, I give you Chanpagne Bordeaux!" He lifted her hand into the air. The audience screamed approvingly. She smiled, knowing that this same scene would be playing out in a few weeks from now. The only difference was that she would be wearing the victor's crown.
Afterwards, she stepped delicately down from the stage and took a seat in the front row of the audience, reserved for the tributes. Hip was coming out next. This would be interesting.
"He's the one! The only! Hip Hoprock!"
Hip strutted onto the stage, wearing his usual lopsided smirk. He was wearing a red and black pinstripe suit along with a fedora that had a matching red feather. Caesar shook his hand and sat down with him.
"Such a handsome boy, aren't you? I would expect no less from District 1!" Caesar said, patting Hip on the back.
Hip flashed a smile at the nearest camera. "Handsome and unattached."
A couple of fangirl squeals rose up from the crowd.
"Uh-oh!" Caesar grinned. The audience laughed appropriately. "Well, with your newfound fame and dashing good looks, I'm sure you won't remain unattached for long."
"Can't argue with that!" Hip chuckled.
"Now, Hip…" Caesar said, leaning forward, looking a bit more serious, "I think you've made quite the impression on us from the very beginning. Why, when you volunteered and that older boy punched you—ouch! Did it hurt?"
For a moment, Hip looked stunned, as if he could not believe they had just gone from talking about his dashing good looks to him getting socked in the face on national television. But he quickly regained himself and admitted, "Just my pride."
The audience laughed once more. A few of them applauded, but quieted down to hear Caesar's next question. "So why did you volunteer at the mere age of 15?"
"I just felt like this was my year, Caesar." Hip said, shrugging, "I know I can win. I'm ready to reap the rewards."
"I'm sure you are. And just what do you plan to do with the prize money once you get ahold of it? Better make sure that your new lady doesn't steal it away from you." He gave the dark-haired boy a wink.
Hip met his gaze, his face grim. "I won't let anyone steal it away. After all, I made a promise to someone." He said, in all seriousness.
"Oh?" Caesar said, more quietly, "And what was this promise?"
"I promised my cat I would buy him a lifetime supply of tuna."
The audience crowed with laughter. Caesar slapped Hip on the back, shouting, "This boy is a hoot! Well, best wishes in the arena, Hip. I'm sure you won't disappoint us."
Hip sauntered off the stage and joined Channa in the front row, as the audience tried to regain themselves. Caesar announced that it was time to bring in District 2, the district they've all been waiting for.
"Please welcome…Sienna Roan!"
Everyone clapped loudly as the 12-year-old took the stage. She was wearing a simple black dress with a silver sequined spear on it, right above her heart. It matched the silver ribbon that held her braided hair together, as well as her light silver and black makeup. She was expressionless as she shook Caesar's hand and sat down.
"So, Sienna. Young Careers are rare, as I'm sure you know. We've all been very eager to meet you." He paused, giving her leeway to say something on her behalf. She just stared at him stonily. So he continued on with his first question, "Are you feeling intimidated by the competition at all?"
"No." Sienna answered, "Why should I be?"
"Well, you are one of the youngest tributes here." Caesar pointed out.
"That doesn't mean I'm any less capable of killing."
The audience was silent, in awe of such a ruthless little girl. Caesar turned to them. "I like this girl's spirit! Now, Sienna, I take it you favor spears. Both of your outfits have featured this weapon. Am I correct or is this just a choice that your stylist made?"
"No, you're right." Sienna said, nodding. "My skill with a spear can't be rivaled."
"Then I'm guessing the Gamemakers gave you that 9 due to your prowess with a spear?" Caesar asked, looking towards the Gamemakers. They weren't supposed to talk about what went on in the training room, so he quickly switched to a different question. "Just how long have you been training with it?"
"Ever since I could hold one." She said coldly, "My dad trained me. He was a past victor."
"Fascinating! Perhaps victory runs in the family."
Sienna narrowed her eyes. "I assure you. It does." She said quietly.
The buzzer went off.
"Well, I'm sorry that's all the time we have. I'm sure the tributes won't underestimate you when the games begin! Good luck, Sienna!"
The audience clapped enthusiastically-there was respect in their eyes for the 12-year girl as she walked off of the stage. She went and took her seat next to Hip, who inched away from her.
"Now, I'm sure you're all excited as I am to meet the favorite for this year. It's none other than Bridon Jakkels, the boy from District 2!"
Bridon came out in a simple black suit with a blue tie that matched his cold blue eyes. Even under his formal attire, you could still see his muscles rippling with power.
"A pleasure to finally meet you." Caesar said, sitting down with him, "So, are you ready to partake in this year's Hunger Games?"
"Yes, I'm definitely ready." Bridon said, nodding, "The other tributes don't stand a chance."
"Y'know…" Caesar said thoughtfully, "I recognized your name as soon as I heard it. Wasn't your father…?"
"Yes, my father was a past victor. My brother was in the games a few years back too."
"I take it he didn't win." Caesar said, looking grim. "I'm very sorry about that." The audience collectively sighed, looking sad for him.
"Don't be." Bridon growled, "He was weak. He made it to the final four and then his ally turned on him. He should have been quicker to kill them before they had a chance to do so." He turned his gaze to the three Careers that were sitting in the front row of the audience and glared at them.
They stared back, very aware that cameras were angled in their direction, waiting for some sort of reaction. When none came, Caesar went on.
"Well, I don't think you have anything to fear. I'm sure you were able to learn from your brother's mistakes, weren't you?"
"That's right." Bridon nodded. "I'm going to be a victor just like my father. And I'm not afraid to cut down anyone who stands in my way."
"I should think not." Caesar confirmed. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bridon Jakkels—the favorite of this years Hunger Games!"
The crowd erupted into cheering. He had a good amount of support—no doubt many of the Capitol citizens were placing their bets on him. He acknowledged their screaming with a simple nod and then went to join the rest of the Careers. They avoided his gaze as he sat down next to him. They knew this changed nothing. They were still a team…it was common sense to know that one point they would all turn on one another.
Up next was Gadgette.
She looked extremely nervous in a puffy lilac dress that came to her knees. She had small purple flowers weaved into her jet-black braids. Caesar greeted her gently and they sat down together.
"You seem rather nervous." He commented, eyes sympathetic.
She swallowed anxiously and nodded.
"Well, don't worry. The interviews are only three minutes. It'll be over just like that!" He snapped his fingers, "You just have to answer a few questions. Are enjoying your stay in the Capitol?"
Gadgette nodded again, thankful that he hadn't brought up her Reaping. "Yes…" She said in a very quiet voice, "Everyone here is very nice…"
"Well, you are a celebrity, after all." He smiled kindly, "Does that include the other tributes? Are they nice to you, too?"
"Oh…well, no, not really." The audience chortled and Gadgette had to resist from hiding her face in embarrassment. "I haven't talked to many of them…my district partner is nice, though."
"Well, we're looking forward to meeting him next." Caesar said, eyes shining.
"…Are we done, then?" Gadgette squeaked out, her face beet red.
Caesar gave a hearty laugh. "Yes, we're done. Take a bow, Gadgette!"
The audience clapped respectfully, but they didn't holler or cheer as they did for the tributes before her. Bowing her head, she slunk off the stage and practically collapsed into her assigned seat. Then she buried her head into her hands and tried to shut out the rest of the world.
"Let's bring in the next one!" Caesar announced.
Jack walked out looking awkward in a flashy red suit. The cuffs of the suit had more gears clicking along and his tie swung back and forth like a pendulum. Among all of the outfits so far, it really stood out.
Caesar complimented him on it as they sat down, motioning towards it. "So Jack…can you explain this suit to me? It's very interesting, very meticulous…"
"Oh, yes." Jack brightened up. "I work as a clockmaker back in District 3. I'm very good with numbers."
"Are you?" Caesar said lightly, "Well, I do hope your talent will be of use to you in the arena…"
"Oh, it will!" Jack was actually starting to get excited; "It's going to give me an advantage when the gong rings and the games begin."
"Do go on." Caesar urged him.
"In my free time, I practice what I call mental training. In my mind, I run for exactly ten seconds without looking at a clock. It's extremely satisfying once I hit exactly ten seconds on the nose. And I do it all the time…it's like my strange addiction. And I'm going to do this during the countdown. As soon as it ends, I'll be the first one off the platform and at the Cornucopia. I'm a really fast runner too. I can run for exactly a mile and I don't need anyone to time me. My best time is 5 minutes, 3 seconds, and 25 milliseconds."
"Interesting." Caesar said, wide-eyed with fascination, "So you mean to say, you can count to the very last millisecond? In your head?"
"I'll demonstrate." Jack said.
Caesar blinked back surprise. "All right. Go for it!"
Jack froze, his face scrunched up in concentration. His mouth was a thin line, pressed tightly together. His balled up fists were shaking ever so slightly. He looked constipated. An awkward silence fell over the audience as they looked at one another uncertainly. Caesar was watching Jack with wide eyes. After ten seconds of nothing, he muttered, "…the interview…" but Jack didn't respond.
After ten more seconds, he held up a hand. He counted down his fingers for each second. Then, right as he hit zero, the buzzer went off. Jack's features returned to normal when Caesar gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. A small smile crossed his face.
"Well, that was certainly impressive! But I'm afraid that means we're out of time." Caesar laughed, "I'll be watching to see if you're the first one to the Cornucopia."
Jack left the stage and Bassin came out next. Her dress was dappled a dark brown, with a red ruby at the center. Her stylist had modeled it after the appearance of a smallmouth bass—what Bassin was named for. She was actually quite fond of the dress, especially the ruby, which was meant to be the bass's eye.
Caesar complimented her on it, saying, "Your stylist certainly has a knack for this. I was in awe when you appeared on that chariot!"
"Thank you." Bassin said, smiling a little bit.
"So Bassin," Caesar continued, folding his hands and staring at her intently, "Do you think you have what it takes to win the Hunger Games?"
She paused. No, I don't think I do. She thought inwardly, but said calmly, "I'm going to try my best. I have to."
"You have to." Her interviewer echoed.
She nodded, her face determined. "Yes. I have a family to get back to. I know the same goes for any other tribute, but…" She trailed off, thinking of the perfect life she had led until now, how she so desperately wanted to return to that…
"Do you have a very big family?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I have a mother, a father, two younger sisters, and an older brother." She told him, her heart aching at the thought of them. She missed each and every one of them dearly.
He whistled. "Sounds pretty big to me! And you get by all right? The winnings could come in handy if you don't."
"Yes." Bassin confirmed, "We own a butcher so we've never been in danger of starving to death. If I won, I don't know what I'd do with the prize money…" She paused to think about it, but came up blank.
"Well Miss Zense, you seem to have your wits about you, and you have plenty of determination. That will get you far."
"I hope you're right." She whispered.
"I hope so too." Caesar answered sympathetically, but she knew it was all for show. He had to act like he was every tribute's friend. He kissed her hand and held it up, declaring, "Bassin Zense!" which got the usual response from the audience.
As she stepped down from the stage, Frederick appeared onstage. "My good people, it's time to meet the handsome Frederick Mariner!"
Frederick was looking handsome in a sea green blazer that matched his eyes. Underneath he wore a sea foam V-neck, black pants, and shiny black leather shoes. He also had on light silver makeup and his hair was slightly spiked, giving him a "sea urchin" sort of look. His stylist had done a fantastic job.
"So Frederick! How are you feeling? Excited? Nervous?"
Frederick shrugged. "I'm not nervous. I'm 100% prepared for tomorrow." He answered calmly.
"Being from a Career district, I assume you've had some training, haven't you?" Caesar went on. Bassin, out in the audience, gave a sigh of relief that he hadn't asked her that question.
"Well, District 4 isn't as enthusiastic as Districts 1 and 2 when it comes to training. I actually trained a lot by myself, in secret. My family and friends were all very shocked when I volunteered."
"I like your confidence." Caesar told him, nodding approvingly, "And such dashing good looks—I'm sure you're quite popular back at home!"
"Not really…I'm more of the loner type. I don't even have a girlfriend."
There was a few squeals from the audience—no doubt Frederick fangirls. Caesar picked up on this and gave a loud laugh, "Sorry ladies! You'll have to wait until he wins the Hunger Games to try and land him!"
One loudmouthed girl proclaimed, "Awww!" while everyone else laughed along with Caesar.
"Now Frederick, please don't think me rude for asking, but we're all dying to know how you got that strangely-shaped scar…" Caesar said, once the crowd had quieted.
"I was attacked by a shark when I was 14." He answered simply. There was a collective gasp from the audience. Caesar looked shocked too.
"Look at this boy! Fighting sharks!" Caesar threw an arm in Frederick's direction, and was answered with a round of applause. "I think we'd all like to hear the story behind that, but we're running low on time. Last question: After taking on a shark, do you have what it takes to win the Hunger Games?"
"…We'll just have to see, won't we?" Frederick said mysteriously, the tiniest of smirks creasing his face.
The audience went wild as Caesar held up Frederick's hand and shouted, "Frederick Mariner!" He had definitely just gotten himself onto the list of favorites. He sat down next to Bassin who murmured, "Good job." He replied with a quiet, "You too."
"Up next," Caesar announced, "We have one of our lovable underdogs! Put your hands together for Cassia Teir!"
She walked out, wearing a purple gown with her hair up. It made her look older than she really was. Currently, she was smiling and waving at the audience, but inside, she felt sick. Her mentor wanted her to come out and gush about how great the Hunger Games were, in order to get some sponsors. But she didn't want to do it. She hated the games. And she hated this ridiculous image everyone, including her family, would see.
"So nice to meet you, Cassia! Are you excited to be here?" He asked one of the go-to questions to start the interview.
"Very!" She said, trying to look excited, "This Capitol is like nothing I've ever seen before! I'm loving it here!"
The audience applauded, pleased that this tribute had so much praise for their beloved home.
"I'm so glad you're enjoying your stay." Caesar said, a wide toothy grin spreading across his face. "It's a shame you're headed to the arena tomorrow. I'm sure we'd all like to see you back here."
"I'll be sad to leave the Capitol, but I'm excited for the games to begin." She said, her cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling so much.
Caesar genuinely looked surprised at this. Perhaps this was rare to hear coming from a non-Career. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"
She searched for words. What was there to be excited about? "Well, for one, the suspense is killing me." This was true.
"You and me, both!" Caesar said, glancing at the crowd, who murmured in agreement. "In fact, I think you speak for everyone when you say that. But Cassia, I'm sure you've realized your status as an underdog, haven't you?"
"Of course I have." She responded, "But I don't mind. After all, I'm only 12. Besides, it may be an advantage…no one would expect me to make it very far."
"But I can see the sparkle in your eyes…you are going to make it very far, aren't you?" Caesar said, patting her shoulder.
She wondered what sparkle he could possibly be talking about. "I'm certainly going to try my best." She answered modestly.
The buzzer went off and she switched out with Cole. Cameras filmed her reaction after she sat down, but she was far too tired to keep up the façade. She wiped the fake smile off her face and sat back to watch the rest of the show.
Cole appeared in a black suit with gold trim, reminding everyone of the lightning bolt that had been emblazed on his chest during the chariot ride. He shook Caesar's hand and sat down to his interview, his eyes searching the audience. Then he caught sight of Channa and smiled at how radiant she was in her gown.
Caesar noticed this, but completely missed the mark when he guessed, "Feeling intimidated by those Careers down there? They're a tough bunch."
"Oh no, not at all." Cole said happily, turning to Caesar, "In fact, I've joined their alliance."
The Careers appeared on one of the big screens as cameras zoomed in for some sort of confirmation. They stayed still, eyes glued on Cole, uncomfortable that he was bringing everyone's attention back to them.
"That's interesting that they would let you join, when you're from District 5. But it's not unthinkable. Stranger has indeed happened." Caesar smiled at some unknown, past memories, "Does District 5 offer some sort of training program?"
"Oh, no." Cole shook his head, "My father passed away in a power plant meltdown last year. I took it upon myself to train in case I ever needed to protect my mother and my little brother…I never thought I'd be chosen for the Hunger Games." His throat tightened with the usual sadness that came when thinking of his father.
"I am truly sorry about your father." Caesar said quietly. Cole looked into his eyes, doubting that, but the host really did look contrite. "At least this training has prepared you for what lay ahead. I'm sure the Careers will be grateful to have you."
"I should hope so." Cole said, smiling softly, but avoiding the gaze of those in his alliance.
"Now, there's one last question I wanted to ask, but I haven't gotten the chance to yet. Do you have any guesses as to what the arena is this year?" Caesar smirked mysteriously and the audience started whispering in hushed voices.
Cole hesitated. "…Do you know what it is?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow questionably.
"Maybe." Caesar answered, eyes sparkling as he waited for Cole's answer.
"Well…I'm gonna guess it's a forest arena. I know the Gamemakers favor that. I really hope it's not a desert or an ice arena, because if it is…" He took a finger and swiped it across his throat, laughing without humor.
Caesar laughed along with him. "I hope so too! Ice arenas are such a bore."
Cole narrowed his eyes. "So you don't know…"
"What is it?" Some impatient fellow from the audience called out.
The buzzer interrupted him, as Caesar chided that everyone would have to wait and see. "Let's welcome Chat Darner to the stage!" He exclaimed, bringing in their next tribute.
Chat strolled out, grinning. Her top resembled a dragonfly. It cascaded down into a flowing dress made of flower petals. It was light yellow and white in color. A dragonfly hairclip that matched her top was pinned in her hair.
"You look lovely!" Caesar complimented her, as soon as he laid eyes on her.
"Thanks." She said cheerfully, twirling in her dress, and then taking a seat beside him. "My stylist is pretty awesome."
"You couldn't be more right! But what's the significance of…?" He slapped his forehead in realization, crying out, "Oh! Darner dragonflies! Your last name is Darner. Oh, that's very, very clever."
"Isn't it?" Chat responded, having no idea what else to say to that.
"So Chat, what's going to give you an edge in this year's Hunger Games?" Caesar asked, gazing at her intently.
"Well I don't want to sound like I'm bragging…"
"Oh, no! By all means, brag!" He chuckled.
Chat smiled. "All right. If I do say so myself, I've got a pretty good head on my shoulders. I was raised to be street-smart and cautious. I won't be making any stupid mistakes while I'm out in the arena."
"Well that's good to hear." Caesar said, looking serious, "Were you raised to be 'street-smart' because you're from District 6?" He looked out towards the audience, who were laughing uproariously. District 6—the transportation district. Brilliant.
"Ha, ha." Chat said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, "Actually it's because I've had to look out for my little brother everywhere I go. He's always sticking his nose in places it doesn't belong."
"Well then, I hope he's getting on all right now that you're gone." Caesar said, still looking triumphant over his previous joke.
"He has our aunt to look after him…" She said quietly, "Until I get back."
"So you believe you have what it takes to win the games?"
She clenched her skirt in her fists, determination flaring in her eyes. "Of course I do. I told Trail I would." She said, looking directly into the nearest camera, knowing that he was seeing every second of this.
The buzzer went off and the audience erupted into applause. The smile returned to Chat's face as she stood up and curtsied. Then she took a seat beside Cole, ready to watch her space-case of a tribute partner take the stage.
"The one! The only! Mitchell Anthony!"
Mitch wore an interesting number. It was a purple and teal pinstripe blazer with a matching purple tie and pants. He also had on a black vest that showed off the same wheel-like buttons he had worn on the chariot ride.
"So Mitch—is it okay if I call you Mitch?"
Mitch was too busy staring out into the audience, his mouth hanging open in awe. Then he realized he was being interviewed. "…What?"
Caesar gave a hearty chuckle, and the audience followed suit. "I asked if it was all right if I could call you Mitch."
"Oh yeah. Of course." He gave a small smile. "Sorry, I have bad hearing."
"You have bad hearing?" Caesar echoed, looking concerned, "My, my, I'm so sorry. That certainly won't help you win the games."
"Guess not." Mitch shrugged. "That's what I get for blasting the radio all the time, I suppose."
"Oh, really? I'm a music lover myself. What's your favorite song?"
"It's so hard to decide…" Mitch said, brightening up, eager to talk about his interests, "There's so many good ones."
"I agree wholeheartedly."
"Whatever I'm listening to at the moment, I guess." Mitch shrugged.
"It's a shame you won't have any music to listen to in the arena. Of course, there's always the Capitol Anthem that plays at the end of each day, but you'll want to be paying attention to see whose faces appear in the sky that evening."
Mitch had zoned out halfway through Caesar's spiel on the anthem. "If I could get my hands on the right tools, I bet I could build a radio." He said half-heartedly, "I'm good with my hands."
The audience was snickering, wondering if this boy could possibly be serious. Who would waste their time building a radio when they should be trying to survive? He's gone in the Bloodbath for sure. Everyone acknowledged silently. Chat just sat there, shaking her head repeatedly. "What an idiot." She muttered aloud.
"Well…" Caesar said, trying to stay serious as best he could, "I certainly hope you can get ahold of your radio." A smile cracked across his face and he lost it completely. Mitch blinked, confused as to whether or not he had done something wrong. The buzzer went off after that. "Okay, well I think it's time for you to go. Mitch Anthony, everybody!"
Everyone applauded, watching him slip off the stage and join Chat in the front row. Caesar joined them in clapping, standing up and starting to make his way off the stage.
"Very well done, folks! We're going to take a brief intermission and then we'll be back with the rest of our tributes!"
I apologize if the interviews aren't extremely long. They're pretty dull to write over and over again so I just gave each tribute about a page.
Also, fun fact! Chat and Jack are based on two obscure video game characters. I wonder if you can guess who…? Probably not, but here's a hint: masks! If you guess correctly, you win bread.
Also, I made a mistake. I made this Caesar's first year of interviewing, but in the book it says he's been doing it for over 40 years. Whoops. My bad.
Okay, that's all for the intermission (which was obviously there for the lull between chapters).
"And we're back! Moving on to District 7, we have…Calistaaa Sirrom!"
Calista walked out looking beautiful in a strapless ball gown covered in red, orange, and yellow leaves. Her curly hair was even pinned up with a shiny gold leaf ornament. She had a heavy coating of orange and brown makeup on her face. She had changed from a green tree of summer into a colorful autumn tree.
"Calista…" Caesar repeated, shaking her hand and motioning for her to take a seat, "I love that name. It's quite pretty, just like the girl it belongs to."
"Thank you." She said politely.
"I've been dying to meet you," Ceasar said, motioning for her to take a seat, "We've all been wondering what made you volunteer at your Reaping, before they even read the name."
Deciding not to blurt out that she was a rash idiot, she told him, "I was scared one of my sisters would be chosen. I wasn't thinking."
"So you weren't just excited to volunteer or anything like that?" Caesar asked, sounding slightly disappointed.
Calista shook her head. "No."
"Well, that's too bad. Are you nervous about tomorrow?"
What kind of question was that? Who wasn't nervous? It was a life or death situation for crying out loud! But she lied, "No, actually. I'm feeling pretty good about the games."
Caesar looked surprised. "Well, good for you. May I ask where all of this confidence is coming from? Are you working out a plan for the arena?"
"After watching the Hunger Games play out for years, I feel like I have what it takes," She said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt, "I know I don't stand out like some of the others, but just watch me. I'll surprise you."
The audience burst into a round of applause, drowning out the sound of the buzzer. Her faked confidence had obviously made an impression. Caesar grabbed her hand and raised it high, announcing her name once more, and declaring, "She'll surprise you!"
Then Calista left the stage, catching sight of Tasi waiting to go on. He wore a dark green shirt with sleeves that wrapped around his arms, resembling vines. They emphasized just how big his muscles were. His pants were a matching dark green that faded into black going down his legs. His long, curly hair was down and well-groomed.
"Tasi!" Caesar said, shaking his hand firmly, "You look like a tribute to be reckoned with! Look at those muscles!"
"Yeah. I work out." Tasi said, not sure what else to say to that.
"So tell me about yourself—you haven't been secretly training too, have you?"
Tasi shook his head. "No. I have a job in a lumber yard….it's made me strong."
"Well, Tasi, I think you're very lucky. District 7 has produced victors in the past. And some of them have resembled you—muscular, good with an axe…"
Lucky? Tasi thought sourly, Yeah, if you call being abandoned by your father, laboring in a lumber yard as a child, and being reaped for the Hunger Games lucky.
"…And ready to kill." Caesar finished.
Tasi didn't answer right away. Despite his fierce appearance, he knew he wasn't capable of killing another human being. He was a gentle giant. But with all of the eyes of Panem watching him, he couldn't say that. It would be sealing his fate, making him a target for the Careers. "That's right." He confirmed, allowing himself a sly smile. The audience looked on, impressed.
"Well, then, the other tributes had better keep their eye on you."
"They had better." Tasi agreed. He glanced down at the others. The Careers had on a "challenge accepted" sort of look to their faces. Less confident tributes looked intimidated. Tasi suddenly wondered if he should have said that—would this make him a target or keep everyone away from him?
"Answer one more question for me." Caesar's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Since they're probably watching you as we speak, is there anything you'd like to say to your family?" He motioned to the nearest camera and Tasi peered closely at it.
His mother had died while giving birth to him and who knew what had become of his father after abandoning him…the only family Tasi had was his adopted father, the boss of the lumber yard. He was probably at work right now. The only other family he could think of was Hope.
But she wasn't watching TV. She was sitting in front of the train station, waiting for her master to come home.
Tasi looked away from the camera. "No." He said firmly.
Caesar shrugged. "All right, then. Tasi Merkava!"
The audience clapped for him respectfully, some of them probably planning to place their bets on him. But the interview made him feel glum, and left him wondering if he had said the right things. He went and sat down next to Calista without a word.
"Now give a big hand for…Ash Frustlock!"
She appeared in a midnight blue dress that cascaded all the way down to the floor, resembling a waterfall. She wore high, gold heels that complimented the blue and her hair was styled in a cute, spiky cut.
"Frustlock! What a powerful-sounding name." Caesar said approvingly, after they sat down.
"Thank you." Ash said respectfully, hands folded in her lap.
"I presume that the girl is as strong as the name?" Caesar asked, arching an eyebrow.
Ash hesitated, glancing at the other tributes. "You bet." She tried to say with as much confidence as she could muster.
"So Ash…what makes you so special?"
Ash suddenly felt as if she were experiencing déjà vu. She flashbacked to the train ride, where Abbadon had sneered at her and wondered if she had what it took to win the games.
She swallowed and gave him the same answer: "I'm pretty smart." She thought of bringing up how she could solve riddles, but then she remembered that the arena wasn't going to be the set of a quiz show. "I can fend for myself." She finished.
"So you have good survival skills." Caesar confirmed, "But what if it comes down to a fight?"
Ash was so skinny and lacked any muscle. It was obvious that she would fail if it came down to a fight. But if she managed to grab some arrows and a bow, no one would be able to come anywhere near her. Not wanting to give away her tactics, she quickly answered, "They'll have to catch me first."
"Then you're a fast runner. I wonder if you can outrun Jack?" The audience murmured quietly, remembering the strange boy from District 3.
"I can run fast…and for a long amount of time, too." Ash said quietly.
"Hmm…well, depending on the arena, let's hope there's room to run!" Caesar said mysteriously. Ash froze up, immediately reminded that the games were tomorrow. And what exactly did he mean by that? He didn't know what the arena was…he couldn't know. But what if it was true? The arena could be filled with deep snow, or water, or it could be a thick jungle… "Ash Frustlock, everyone!"
With her mind racing, she barely noticed him call out her name one last time. She walked off the stage in a daze. She regained her focus when he called the next tribute's name.
"Abbadon Sirus!"
Abbadon strolled across the stage confidently in a shiny, blood red blazer. He also had on a black button-up shirt and black pants, along with a matching polka-dotted ascot. Dark eye shadow had been applied to his face, making him look even more threatening than usual. He shook Caesar's hand firmly, with his usual smirk.
"That's an interesting fashion statement!" Caesar commented, pointing at Abbadon's hair as soon as they had exchanged greetings, "But I suppose if you win, then it'll become all the rage, won't it?"
"It will." Abbadon promised.
"I know this is forward of me, but may I ask how you got that scar?"
At this, Abbadon narrowed his eyes, suddenly looking dangerous. "Yeah, it is forward of you. You think just because you're some hotshot TV host you can ask people personal questions and get an answer? Jerk."
Caesar blinked, obviously taken aback. He had been expecting to get the same treatment Frederick had given him, and shouldn't have assumed he would. But, he hadn't been chosen to host the Hunger Games for nothing. He quickly recovered. "Forgive me, Abbadon. Sometimes I get too ahead of myself and my mouth moves faster than my mind."
"Obviously." Abbadon snorted.
Caesar ignored the jibe and said lightly, "So Abbadon…you seem to be about the same age and size as Bridon, the favorite. Tell me, if it came down to you and him, who would win?"
"Me, of course." Abbadon answered without hesitation. He looked down, seeking out Bridon in the front row to look for a reaction, "I'm still wondering how on earth that idiot got chosen as the favorite."
Bridon met Abbadon's gaze and the two stared one another down for a long moment, eyes glaring, jaws clenched.
"You know, the Careers actually came and asked me to join their little alliance." Abbadon said slowly, looking at all four of them. "But I said no. How strong can they be if they need to mooch off others to survive?"
A long silence followed his words. It seemed that every single big screen in the building contained the image of a Career. But none of them so much as batted an eyelash. They all stared intently at Abbadon, faces void of emotion. After what seemed like forever, the buzzer broke the silence.
"Well, I can't put into words how excited I am for the games to begin." The host said in a hushed voice, his eyes sparkling. In other words, he couldn't wait to see these tributes go at each other's throats. "Ladies and gentlemen, Abbadon Sirus!"
Only when Abbadon got up to walk off the stage and the audience burst into applause, did Channa lean over Hip to whisper to the others, "He's number one on our hit list. Got it?" Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Up next, her name may be Carasadni, but since that's too much of a mouthful, we know her as…Cara Antwip!"
The audience applauded and chuckled at the same time. Cara walked out in a long and flowing dress that shimmered in the light. It was a warm shade of gold and orange, with deep gold studs at the bottom, on the sleeves, and at the neckline. There was a faint grain pattern on the dress, showing that her stylist highly favored sticking to the grain theme.
Caesar complimented her on it, and then launched into his first question. "So Cara…how are you feeling right now? Nervous for tomorrow?"
She widened her eyes innocently and looked out into the audience. "I miss my family." She said, with just the right touch of sadness.
There was an audible, "Aww!" that emanated from the crowd.
"Oh, that's sweet." Caesar said sympathetically, "Well, they're probably watching you right now, so is there anything you'd like to say?"
She found one of the cameras and looked into it. "I'm coming home." She promised. There was a sigh from the audience. Her angle was working. Her mentor knew what she was talking about.
"So how are you going to do that?" Caesar said, looking interested, "What tricks are you hiding up your sleeve?"
"It's a secret." Cara said, smiling mysteriously.
"Come on. You can tell me."
"Then it wouldn't be a secret anymore!" She protested, giggling. The secret was, she didn't have a secret. This was all a bluff for sponsors…and to maybe scare the other tributes off. Her mentor had come up with the idea. She hoped silently that it would work.
"Does it have anything to do with the 7 you scored from the Gamemakers?"
"Not telling!" She grinned.
"Fine." Caesar sighed, making a big show of being disappointed. "I suppose we'll find out sooner or later, won't we?"
"Don't worry. Everyone will find out eventually." She said, smiling mischievously at the tributes in the front row. The Careers and Abbadon didn't look too impressed. Gadgette was fidgeting nervously and Jack was making the same constipated expression he had on earlier, no doubt counting down the seconds of her interview. A few others looked uncertain, while some were obviously zoning out, such as Mitch.
Then the buzzer went off. "Cara Antwip!" Caesar declared, as she stood up and swept into a perfect curtsy. "Up next, we have another of our favorite underdogs! Iiit's Drake Cell!"
The audience grew extremely excited to see him. He may not have had the best odds, but he was memorable. And here he came, dressed in a simple tux with extra long sleeves that covered his missing hand. But the audience began to chant for him to roll it up and be proud. Even after he greeted Caesar and sat down, they were still yelling at him to do so. Finally, he obliged, rolling up both of his sleeves. The crowd roared approvingly at the sight of his stump.
"Sounds like you have a lot of fans!" Caesar exclaimed after the audience had settled.
"I guess so." Drake said, grinning, "I'm glad. Thanks for your support, everyone."
The crowd applauded this statement. Caesar quieted them by reminding them that they were on a strict schedule. Jack nodded approvingly from his seat.
"Anyways, how's your stay in the Capitol been? To your liking, I hope?"
"It's been incredible." Drake said with a nod. Some idiot started to clap more, but the crowd quickly shut them up.
"Everything went well in training, then? What do you think of the competition?" Caesar asked, looking serious.
"Yeah, training was fun. Trying out all of the stations was a blast. As for the competition…I'm not intimidated. I think I'll be fine, as long as Hip stops making hand puns at me. Otherwise I might end up killing myself just so I can't hear him anymore." Hip looked up in surprise at hearing his name. "All in good fun, bro." Drake said good-naturedly, waving his hand.
Hip frowned. He hadn't been paying attention.
"Speaking of your hand…" Caesar spoke carefully, "Do you think that will hinder you in the arena?"
"Of course it will." Drake answered, with confidence, "But that doesn't mean I'll let it. I have plenty of other attributes that'll help me get by."
"And I suppose you won't be wanting to share your tactics with the people of Panem?" Caesar asked hopefully.
Drake laughed. "Sorry, but no. Wouldn't you rather wait and be surprised?"
"That's true. It'll give us more to look forward to." Caesar said, eyes shining.
"You won't be disappointed." Drake promised.
The audience could no longer hold it in and burst into another round of cheering, drowning out the sound of the buzzer. "Drake Cell, everyone! Up next we have…Olivia Rohaki!"
Olivia stepped out in a gold and black dress. The golden markings weaving through the top of the dress matched her gold necklace, heels, and earrings. Her auburn hair was up, with a few strands down to frame her face. She appeared calm on the outside, but on the inside, her heart was pounding furiously.
"Olivia! You look beautiful tonight!" Caesar greeted. Even though he had gone through so many tributes already, he never lost his enthusiasm.
His congeniality was comforting and Olivia offered him a smile. "Thank you." After they sat down and began the interview, she grew more and more confident with each question.
"So what do you think of the other tributes so far?" Caesar asked right off the bat.
She looked out into the audience, as if regarding the others. "Eh, they're not so tough." She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes in the direction of the Careers. It was a daring move, she knew, especially if they didn't understand humor.
"I love to see some confidence coming from the poorer districts!" Caesar declared, "Oops, there I go again. I'm so sorry, Olivia."
"Oh, please don't worry about it." Olivia smiled sweetly, "I'm not offended. My family is well off."
"Well that's good to hear. Whew!" He pretend to wipe imaginary sweat off of his forehead, resulting in a few chuckles from the audience. "What's your family like?"
"We raise horses. I help run the farm with my dad." She told him.
"Then I bet you enjoyed the chariot ride."
"I did!" She exclaimed, beaming. She almost wished she could go back and redo it. Petting the horses was a comfort, and she would have liked to wave to the audience instead of trying to match Shem's seriousness. They seemed to be taking well to the more charming tributes. Well, now was the time to change that.
"So Olivia…back to the Games…what do you think will give you an edge in the arena?"
She paused to think about it. She didn't have some amazing strength she would prefer to keep hidden, so she just told it like it was. "I'm pretty strong from working on the farm. I'm glad we've had time to train before going to the arena because I've had the opportunity to discover what I'm capable of."
"Such as?" Her interviewer urged her to go on.
"I'm pretty good at tracking, thanks to my experience with animals…and I'm not too bad with knives."
"That's a popular choice. You'll have to be quick in getting to the Cornucopia if you want one." Caesar said, his face somber.
"I don't—" Olivia started to say, but the buzzer cut her off. She frowned. She wanted to make it clear that she wouldn't be foolish enough to run for the knives, but it didn't matter. The audience would just have to be surprised.
"Next up, we have Shem DoAHAHAHAHA!" Caesar burst out laughing at the sight of Shem in a cow-patterned tux and a hat with what appeared to be golden goat horns branching off of it. The entire audience was hooting with glee at the ridiculous outfit he was wearing.
"My stylist hates me." Shem mumbled, his face a bright red as he shook Caesar's hand.
Caesar quickly composed himself and said kindly, "I'm so sorry, my dear boy. Let me try that again…Shem Dog, everyone!"
The crowd clapped, still snickering.
"I'm guessing you raise cows…" Caesar said, observing Shem's get-up.
"Goats, actually." Shem responded, straightening his white bowtie.
Caesar nodded, and then launched into questions having more to do with the games. "So Shem—you're one of our older tributes, aren't you? You're 18. Do you think that'll make you a target?"
Shem frowned and shook his head. "No. If anything, I think it gives me an advantage. Age can be intimidating, just like height."
"No, I completely agree with you." Caesar said, "And you've got both on your side. That has to be a confidence booster."
"It is." Shem confirmed.
"So self-assured! Both you and your district partner. I take it you think you have a pretty good chance of winning the games?"
Shem's face was dead serious. "Yes. Yes I do." He answered, his face filled with an intense determination. "I strongly believe that I have what it takes."
"Even after seeing what the rest of the tributes have to offer, you still refuse to falter. I like it!" Caesar said, eyes shining with anticipation, "Shem, is there anything you'd like to say to them…or to Panem in general?"
Shem turned to look into the nearest camera. His face filled every big screen there was. "Just because I have certain weaknesses does not mean I am not capable of winning." He declared.
There was a loud snort from the front row. Hip sat there, smirking, arms defiantly crossed across his chest. It went unnoticed, however, as the audience had started clapping after Caesar announced Shem's name one last time.
"We're quickly nearing the end…" Caesar told everyone, "But don't count these tributes out just yet! It's time to meet Julia Stark!" She had on a simple, elegant dress with faint patterns of leaves along the bottom. Her auburn hair, which was usually up, reached down to her shoulders.
"Nice to meet you, Julia. I must say, you looked quite pretty in your chariot costume the other night."
"Oh, yeah." She said in a bored tone of voice. She had been hoping they would talk Hunger Games. But then she remembered her manners and added a quick, "Thanks."
"By your build, it's easy to tell that you're a hard worker…I wish I could say the same for me." The host grimaced, getting a good response from the audience, who shouted reassurance to him. "Do you work in the orchards?"
"A bit," She answered, "Most of the time I just try to take care of my family. Cooking, cleaning, the works."
"Hmm, well if you ever catch a break, come on over to my place. It's an absolute mess." He joked.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen." The audience chuckled at her response and she couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Now c'mon, Caesar, I'm here to talk Hunger Games." She said bravely. A few approving shouts emanated from the crowd.
"Excellent!" Caesar said, a big grin stretching across his face, "I was hoping you would say that! Which part of the games are you looking forward to the most?"
"Seeing the other tributes' faces when I win!" She declared. Everyone laughed uproariously. The other tributes rolled their eyes, not finding her comment extremely tasteful.
"I like your spirit." Caesar complimented her, "Do you have any tricks up your sleeves? Or do you prefer to be spontaneous?"
"I'm spontaneous. I'll have to be, considering I have no idea what the arena is going to bring."
"True, true. You strike me as the spontaneous sort too. It's quite charming, really."
This time she remembered to say thank you.
"So Julia…any special lad that you fancy stuck back in District 11? Or are you gleefully unattached?"
Julia paused, remembering that poor boy that had asked her to hang out after the Reaping. So much for that. At least she had never made a promise she wouldn't have been able to fulfill. "Gleefully unattached," She said coolly, "But I won't deny that some of these handsome tributes haven't caught my eye."
"Ooooh." The audience gasped, sounding very interested to know who she meant.
The tributes all looked at one another, wondering whom she could possibly be targeting, and just why she would do that with the situation they were in. "She's nuts." Chat grumbled. Frederick hid his face, having a sneaking suspicious that she meant him. At that moment, the buzzer sounded and Caesar bid farewell to Julia. Up next was Caden. He was wearing black dress pants and a black top with light brown leaf patterns on it.
"Caden Amaranth! So good to meet you."
"Same." Caden said quietly.
"Another shy one, I see." Caesar noted as they took their seats, "Are you always this quiet?"
Caden allowed himself the smallest of smiles. "No, actually. You wouldn't think so, but I love singing and dancing."
"We had another music lover here earlier! I bet you'd be good friends with Mitch." Everyone looked towards the brown-haired boy, but he was in his own world. "Would you mind putting on a small performance for us?"
Caden shook his head quickly. "Ha, no thanks. I only do it around my family."
"It might get you sponsors."
"Sorry." Caden smiled wryly.
"Oh, don't worry about it. I completely understand. So have you come into the games with any other talents that you think might be of use?"
Caden paused, thinking carefully. "I don't see why singing and dancing wouldn't be of use."
Caesar truly looked surprised. "And what makes you say that? Are you going to…sing someone to death?" He cracked a smile.
Caden forced a laugh. "No. I just feel so strongly about what I do…my singing, my dancing…it connects me to nature, and its rhythm. There's a rhythm to everything, and through it, we're all connected. We…" He blinked, as if suddenly coming out of a trance. Then he lowered his head, looking embarrassed. "Sorry."
"No, don't be." Caesar said in a hushed voice, "It's wonderful to see someone speak with such passion about something they love. Don't you all agree?"
Everyone applauded approvingly.
"Best of luck to you, Caden." Caesar said, patting him on the back. "And last but not least, it's time to meet the tributes from District 12!"
Ellis was wearing a pretty, yellow dress that reached down to her knees. The dress was covered in bright little feathers, and her stylist had even draw some feather designs on her arms. Aside from that, she also sported a black belt and black gloves. She knew she was supposed to resemble the canary that coal miners used back in District 12, but she was doubtful anyone else would know.
"So Ellis," Caesar began solemnly, "I think we're all interested to know why you volunteered for this year's Hunger Games. In fact, we're all very fascinated by you and your district partner—two volunteers from District 12! It's been a long time since something like this has occurred. So…why did you do it? Did you know the little girl who was reaped?"
"No," Ellis said quietly, "I have no idea who she was."
"Then…why would you sacrifice yourself in her stead?" Caesar asked, mystified.
"Because I couldn't stand to see her life taken away from her…" Ellis answered in a scared, quavering voice. She knew she was venturing into dangerous waters. Insulting the tradition of the games would make her a target for the Gamemakers. "She was so scared, crying out for her mother like that..."
"But what about your life?" Caesar questioned, "How did your family respond to your decision?"
Ellis balled up her fists, wrinkling her dress as she did so. "I have no family." She said in a low voice. Sympathetic murmurs arose from the audience. She could see thousands of eyes, each of them filled with pity, all on her.
"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." Caesar apologized, truly looking upset with himself. "I just assumed…"
Ellis shook her head. "It's okay…I never knew my parents anyways…"
"How difficult that must be for you." Caesar said, taking her hand and holding onto it tightly, "How ever did you manage to get by all these years?"
"My brother took care of me." Ellis whispered. "But then he was reaped."
A silence followed her words. No one even had to guess what had happened to him.
"Ellis, you are a survivor." Caesar said to her firmly, "You've made it this far. I have no doubt that you'll go far in the arena. Ellis Cade, everyone!" He lifted her hand up high and the crowd cheered enthusiastically. Her sob story had obviously reached out to many of them—but she wished that she hadn't shared it at all. She didn't want them knowing of her tragic past. That was hers and hers alone.
"And now, for our final tribute of the day…give it up for Carson Rivera!"
Carson was dressed rather casually in tan pants, a blue blazer, and a white bowtie that matched his shoes. His face was void of emotion as he shook Caesar's hand and sat down to begin the final interview.
"So, Carson…if I recall correctly, you volunteered for your brother, did you not? What was his name again…Benry?"
"Bentley." Carson corrected him.
"And what did Bentley think about all of this?"
Carson hesitated, recalling his final goodbyes to his brothers. Ronnie had been so wide-eyed and terrified. And Bentley had looked at him with those accusing eyes… "He was upset with me. Asked me why I did it."
"And what did you say?"
"He's my little brother. I'd have to be the worst person in the world not to take his place." Carson answered simply.
Caesar nodded, satisfied. "I assume that your brother is tuned in so he can see you…what would you say to him right now, if he were watching?"
Carson found a camera and said firmly, "Stay strong. I'm gonna try and come back to you."
The audience let out a collective "aww!" and applauded him.
Carson looked away, uncomfortable with this much attention. Finally, the buzzer rang.
"I sincerely hope that you can make it home to see your brother again." Caesar said, shaking Carson's hand. "Until then—Carson Rivera, everyone!"
The audience applauded and didn't stop as the other tributes were led back onto the stand. There they stood, side by side. The audience went wild, leaping to their feet and screaming until their voices were hoarse. When their noise level had slightly lowered, Caesar made the final announcement:
"Panem, I present to you the tributes of the 42nd annual Hunger Gaaames! Remember to tune in for tonight's ball and place a bet for your favorite tribute on the way out. Until them, I'm Caesar Flickerman! Good luck tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"
