AN: ATTENTION! I know that many of you wanted to submit a tribute to this SYOT, but unfortunetly all spots were taken, so I decided to make another SYOT, you can check it out on my profile and submit a tribute. I just want all of you to be content and since I've been getting many PM's even after I closed submissions for this SYOT, I decided for this :)

As for the chapter, I hope you will enjoy it, the next three chapters are going to be from the trainings and those three chapters will include the POV of every tribute. Also if you have any ideas for the arena, the twist, mutts or anything, put it into review or write me a PM. We are slowly getting to the arena chapters, people. I'm really excited!


Samantha Berkins, California

I glanced in the mirror at my own reflection and my lips curled into a vain smirk in satisfaction. My tanned body was slender with curves on the right places, my straight dark brown hair with dips dyed blue were casually resting on my chest and my deep opaque green eyes were highlighted by thick layer of black mascara. I must have admitted that the stylist made quite a job on me. I was different, yet I looked naturally and healthy. If the sponsors won't get attracted by my volunteering, then I'm sure my appearance will do the work. I was wearing a cocktail dress, green like a bright emerald, with V neck and long laced sleeves. The dress ended few inches above my knees and my feet were elegantly placed in high silver pumps. I could barely walk in them, but at least they made my legs look longer and sexier, which will surely attract the possible sponsors. After all, this entire party is held with the purpose of finding sponsors. Personally, I think it's the best way- we get to talk to our future sponsors and they will have at least a slight image about who we are.

Suddenly the door to my room opened with a loud bump and I turned my head to see Calder, my district partner.

"Samantha, Stacia asked me to tell you to get your ass in the hall. The party starts soon." Stacia was an extremely annoying escort assigned to us. In my entire life, I have never seen anyone so pesky and I've met lot of people. Seriously, the scale of stupidity goes like this: Okay, not okay, slightly annoying, annoying, extremely annoying, Stacia Lange.

"Give me a minute." I told him and turned back to the mirror. I heard to door closing as Calder was leaving the room. When I think about it, I had quite fine district partner. We've exchanged only several words, but I could see that he's just like me. He volunteered with the intention of winning and he has a way with words just as I do. I can already see him as a potential ally, but unfortunately, also a threat.

My plans for the arena are simple- find strong tributes for my alliance, stick to them during the bloodbath and further, and then with their help kill off the minor, weaker tributes. Of course, since I plan to win this game, I will have to come up with an idea on how to get rid of my supposed strong allies. Well, at least I still have few days to figure that out. I could kill them in their sleep for example. It's sly and vicious, but which victor was known for being kind and honorable? Well, maybe there were few, but I'm sure that there are more of those who used their cunningness to get out of the games alive. And that's exactly what I'm going to do.

"Samantha!" Ah here it is. The overly high pitched voice belonging to Stacie Lange, that I so longed for.

"I'm coming!" I screamed back and grabbed my flittered silver leaf bag, closing the door behind me as I left my room. My rounded eyes met the cold gaze of our escort and I simply pulled out the sweetest smile that I could in that exact moment.

"Shall we?" I asked nonchalantly, which earned me a smirk from Calder and nasty glare from Stacia.


Paris Vega, Las Vegas

I shifted nervously under my tight red dress. They were too short and exposed too much, and instead of feeling confident and beautiful, I felt like I was naked in front of all these people. We were in a large hall, where you could find four groups of people. First one were the sponsors- they were all styled extravagantly, but in calm colors, nothing neon or way too out of line. They were the loudest one, trying to talk to everyone they approached. The second group were the escorts- they were the most extravagant ones, styled in screaming colors, awful combinations, overly large accessories and such. They were the wannabies, trying to impress others with their appearance. Third group consisted of the mentors, the past victors. They were formally clothed, but they wore the type of clothes that could be worn even outside of the Canada. And last, but not least- us. The tributes. We were the highlight of the evening and I could see why. Each of the girls looked like goddesses, even the smaller and younger ones looked like they are having a break from a modeling shooting and each of the guys were dressed up in either suits or tuxedos, looking elegant and luxurious.

With my blue hair and purple highlights, I was surely standing out, even though I tried to be as invisible as possible. It's not that I don't like to be around people, I just don't like to be around these people. These are the people responsible for the fact that we are all going into an arena where 47 of us are going to die and now they expect me to go around kissing their ass? I'm generally nice and friendly person, I will show my kindness to those that deserve it. And these preppy, styled in expensive clothes and martini drinking people? They sure as hell didn't deserve any of my good nature.

"Hey!" I turn around to find the source of the voice that called me. My eyes meet the sight of Loren, my district partner. My lips curve into a friendly smile and I wave at him.

"Hi there." I respond and he approaches me with drink in his hand. He motions at the glass in his hand, offering me one, but I shake my head refusingly.

"No, thanks. I don't drink." I reply honestly and lean against the cold wall.

"Enjoying yourself so far?" He asks me and takes a sip from his drink. I chuckle loudly and cover my mouth with my perfectly manicured hand.

"Right. Being in a dress that are two size smaller than I actually am, and dozens of men unable to keep their eyes off my chest, that surely is a dream come true." I joke and Loren laughs at my comment.

"And how about yourself? It seems that the lovely woman in yellow is eyeing you the entire time we speak. No, don't look." I quickly said when he attempted to turn around.

"Is she pretty?" He asks me and I look over his shoulder to observe the lady closer. When my gaze fell on her, I had to suppress my laugh.

"Does inner beauty count for you?" The lady wore tight yellow dress, beige cardigan lazily placed over her shoulder and her feet were decorated by beige pointed high-heels. The entire look would appear quite nice if someone else wore it. This lady however looked like she was present during the origin of our planet and survived the dinosaurs. If her age was not repellent enough, then her false attempts to stop aging surely were. Her lips were full from botox and her cheekbones looked like they were done by some amateur plastical surgeon. On the top of that, she consisted of merely bones and skin.

"Christ sake! I never knew someone could live that long." Loren exclaimed once he turned to see his new groupie. I couldn't hold it any longer and had to laugh at his reaction. In that exact moment, I was glad that he was there with me. I really needed someone to boost up my mood and someone to talk to in this mad house.


Natalie Wilson, New York

I am fourteen years old, but when I met my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I looked at least three years older and instead of my usual girly appearance, I looked hot. My head was nodding at every word some random Canadian in front of me said, but my gaze was fixed upon the mirror. I had bright red provocative lipstick, black blaizer placed over my golden top, tight black skirt that went to the middle of my tights and golden flats. My stylist was insisting on putting high-heels on me, but after he saw me walking in them, his decision quickly changed.

"So, tell me darling. Why should you be the one that I should sponsor?" This question caught my interest and I smiled slyly, prepared for this question.

"That is up to you to decide. But I will tell you why I would want you to sponsor me." I replied with a mysterious tone in my voice.

"I'm listening." The Canadian man seemed quite interested at what I have to say.

"If I won, it would mean that I would get the opportunity to meet your charming personality and handsome appearance again." Liar, liar, pants on fire. I often tried to put some truth in my lies, but the previous sentence that left my red lips was filled with entirely pure lies. Nevertheless, it seemed to do the effect. The man in front of me smiled widely, looking more than pleased with my answer. He was quite interesting, I have to give him credit for that. He had long blue hair and eyebrows dyed in the same color, short chubby figure and reddish thick beard. The North America is outrageous country enough, but you can't say that you've experienced extravagance until you've seen or met a Canadian.

"Is that so, sweetheart?" Ugh, he was disgusting. I could see his chest rising and falling, his beige dotted shirt wet from sweat and his expensive silver suit dirty from a spilled red wine. His breath smelled after cigarettes and alcohol.

"Mhm." I nodded my head, forcing a smile. He poured me another drink and since I had to play along, I accept it with fake sweet gratitude. I've never really drank before, not outside the family circle at all. I took a sip from champaigne at the New Year's Eve or during family birthdays, but otherwise, I did not seek drinking. I didn't even enjoy the taste of it, it was too bitter for my liking.

After another few minutes of listening to his babbling, I excused myself, saying that I have to go to toilet. I must say, getting away from that sweaty alcohol smell brought a great wave of relief to me. I made my way to the ladies and found there tribute girl, probably from Europe, but as hard as I tried, I couldn't remember her name. She was older, taller and surely prettier than me. I don't think that she has to sit next to old chubby men to gain sponsors. Her skin was pale and her hair was straight blonde, so I assumed she was either from Sweden or from Russia.

"I'm Valeriya. Ne nuzhno smotreť tak mnogo. " The blonde one said, without turning her gaze away from the mirror.

"Pardon me?" I asked her, not knowing whether I misheard her or whether the comment was not meant for me. Valeriya looked at me and laughed sonorously, but it was not the kind of mocking laugh, it was more like a playful laugh that mother gives to her child.

"I said, it's not necessary to stare so much." She repeated in quiet chuckle, now in english. I heard that some of the other states maintain their original language and even use it at home, but I didn't think it was allowed in here. Probably not, but this Russian girl seemed like she didn't care about that.

"I'm Natalie, from New York." I stated with pride and extended my hand. She shook it firmly and gave me a charming smile.

"Priyatno poznakomiť sya. It's nice to meet you." She replied in both languages and I couldn't help but smile. It was nice to hear other language than English, even though I didn't understand it at all.


Matthew Williams, Los Angeles

I was not sure why everyone was so excited about this party. It was nothing special or extraordinary. If anyone asks me, I see it as rather pathetic. Capitol put us here and now it basically thinks that we are their pawns, their source of entertainment, they think they can do anything with us and the worst part is that they actually can. We are nothing but mere dolls put here to dance around in fancy clothes and then show our brutality and thirst for blood in the arena- well, at least that's how everyone imagines it. Capitolans are mostly watching the games only because of one specific group of people that occurs every year- careers. Careers, I have no idea where that nickname came from, are a certain group of people who are either well-built and muscular or great with weapons. Sometimes it's both. One way or another, these individuals who have the biggest chances at survival form into an alliance, agreeing on hunting down the weaker tributes and then splitting up, fighting with each other for the victory. It's a boring scenario, but it was proven that such strategy works, seeing as the 'careerish' people were most of the times the ones who in the end hold the crown.

"Mind if I join you?" Childlish voice asked me and I turned around to see small boy in light blue tuxedo staring at me. I gave him a quick nod and tried to remember him from the Reapings however I was without success, but that didn't appear as a problem since the little boy was already introducing himself.

"I'm Noah from Fiji." He revealed his state with more pride than I've ever heard anyone say.

"I'm Matthew from L.A." I used the short version of my country, because if I was to say 'Los Angeles' to every person I met, my tongue would have fallen out already.

I waited patiently for the boy to say something else, but he merely stood there, looking into space with his big hazel eyes. I felt the need to start up the conversation again, because let's be honest- two young boys standing in the corner silently looking into space, that's just creepy.

"How old are you?" I asked him after a long pause that could be described as the awkward silence.

"10. Yeah, lowest age and lowest chance of survival." I was surprised by his words, but what striked me most was the way he said it. He didn't state it in the depressive kind of voice or in the 'I'm little, so pity me' voice. It was more like a statement, like a fact that he grew accustomed with.

"Don't say that. Many times even the weaker tributes have won." I tried to cheer him up. I didn't want this boy, this child who has his entire life before him, to simply give up.

"Let's face it, I'm weak. It's quite probable that I'm the weakest one in here. I can't run, can't climb, I have little knowledge about the outside world and not to mention I can't even lift a weapon. But that's fine. I will die, but I'm going to make them remember me." Noah said with such a strong determination in his voice that it was almost unbelievable that this boy is only 10 years old. I chuckled, sensing a little plotting.

"What's your plan?" I asked him and Noah stood on his tiptoes, whispering his plan into my ear.


Jonathan Alder, Mexico

Trying to impress the sponsors seemed to be a bigger challenge than I expected. When I approached any potential sponsor, it got little bit awkward. While my mind had already created charming and impressive response, my mouth suddenly decided to spill out something offensive and inappropriate. But in the end I found out that my muscular figure and handsome boyish appearance sufficed from wooing the Capitolans. As I figured out earlier, female part of tributes were engaged in conversations with male Capitolan and vice versa. I wasn't surprised at all, to be frank. The preppy moneyed Capitolans weren't interested in our personality or character, they wanted to see strong and beautiful people determinated to win.

I decided that I had enough of the prissy people who had everything they desired and walked over to a dark-skinned girl who wore golden sleeveless gown and looked as if she was lost. Looking at her was quite intimidating; I could see that her beauticians made fine work on her.

"It's quite depressing to be standing in here all by yourself. Aren't there sponsors you need to impress?" I asked her nonchalantly, looking into space.

"Right, that's my dream come true. Kissing ass to the ones that put us here." She replied sarcastically and I couldn't help but chuckle at her response.

"I'm Jon." I introduced myself, smiling sheepishly.

"North America?" She asked me, raising one eyebrow.

"Am I that obvious?" I joked and her still face finally broke into a smile.

"Kind of. I'm Layla." She offered me hand and I firmly shook it. I could see myself allying with this girl. She seemed strong, capable of fight and if I remember correctly, she's one of the few volunteers. I, myself planned on forming a strong alliance, maybe even possibly a career one. Every year there's a strong alliance, Capitolans like to call them careers, and my plan was to be part of that alliance. I knew that my strength will not suffice if I will be alone, possibly weaponless and someone armed comes at be, I might not have the chance of survival. And I want to survive. Even if I did not voluntarily signed up for this thing, I am here and winning in the arena is now my only goal.

"You know, I think we would work quite well as allies." I offered and she smirked at me slyly.

"Hang on. We'll see how you handle the training." Feisty. I laughed in her direction and disappeared to a crowd of colorful wigs.


Mitchell Henry Christiansen, Hawaii

I was leaning against the reddish wall alone, observing the room as well as people in it. I couldn't help but think about what Rose, my girlfriend, would say to all this gloss. She would probably see this situation as another shallow event held by the Capitolans, but I can bet she would enjoy all those nice food and dress. Those are the only two thing that I can't complain about. The food is fresh, delicious and always enough. It's something that I wasn't used to before.

I remember all those shocked and confused expressions on people's faces when I volunteered as a tribute. I didn't blame them, though. Those people didn't know me and to most of them I was just another pretty face to look at. They weren't there when our family went on a trip with a boat, excited to spend some time together, only to find out few hours later that it was the worst day of our lives. And for some, it was the last day. It happened long time ago, but I can still hear my twin sister's screams as she tried to grab on something when she fell into the water and I was unable to help her because my left leg got stuck under a heavy piece of wood. I can still see my father mourning over the corpse of my mum, begging her not to leave him. I still remember the day my father grabbed bottle of alcohol and quickly found comfort in it. When I think about it, the basis of memories is quite interesting. I can remember my abusive alcoholic father, I can remember all those times when he tried to throw a chair or beat up my little sister Kaitlyn just because she resembled him of our mother, yet when I try to think about Annabelle, my twin sister, or the soft features of my mum, my vision is blurry. Sometimes I catch myself not remembering what she looked like anymore. I tend to keep at least one photo always with me, in case that happens.

No one really understood my situation. Well, except maybe for my girlfriend and my two best friends, even though they too don't know the entire story. I don't think it's important for other people to know entirely everything about you. It takes away all the mystery.

I winked at the lady with golden blonde hair wrapped up in high bun, decorated with little red jewelry hearts in her bun. She was ogling me the entire time; I spent pondering about my life. I wasn't intending to do more than few sweet words and occasional smiles and winks for these Canadian spoiled women. I knew what is sufficient to get enough sponsors and I won't go beyond that border. I am staying loyal to Rose, but those wealthy citizens don't need to know about that. I would describe my entire façade with sentence: "You can look, but don't touch." I will charm them, comprise them with attention, give them enough to remember me by and the gifts in the arena will be arriving one by one.


AN: As usual, please review this story. If I wrote your character too ooc, please let me know and I will try to improve. Each review means a world to me, so please share your opinions with me. Enjoy.

- How did you like each character, who stood out most and who didn't strike as much interesting?

- Anything specific that you would like to read in my story?

- I was wondering about including something from the supernatural world in the story. Perhaps each tribute could receive a supernatural ability? Or maybe werewolves as mutts? Tell me what you think.