Disclaimer: I don't own the tributes, quotes, or the Hunger Games.

THREE MORE CHAPTERS UNTIL THE GAMES!

Okay, first off, I'm outting up a profile for your favorite tribute so far. It won't effect the overall deaths, but it'll help me focus on the storylines you most want to read about. I decided to do an occasional mentor-themed chapter, as mentioned in an earlier update so...

Here's a list of the mentors for this year's Hunger Games:

District 1: Lacey Luxe

District 2: Gabriel Ashford

District 3: Beetee Sparks

District 4: Zane Dalis – an the occasional appearance of Finnick, because I love him.

District 5: Vale Morris

District 6: Cara Breen

District 7: Johanna Mason

District 8: Cecilia Nylon

District 9: Katrina Cruz

District 10: Ollie Rhodes

District 11: Chaff Meadows

District 12: Haymitch Abernathy

"It's all to do with the training: you can do a lot if you're properly trained."

~Elizabeth II~

ѮѼѮ

District 1: Angelina Devon

The training room is one of the biggest rooms I've ever seen.

Weapons of every shape, color, and size line the walls. Mats and protective cushioning are on the floor, placed there in such a way that it seems like it will be almost impossible to hurt anyone, intentionally or otherwise.

I throw a sideways glance at Scout, who hasn't said a single word to me since we boarded the train. He hardly did anything except watch the reaping recap, and ever since then I've been confused about his attention span. He concentrated on that, but he only gives me one-word answers when I ask him questions. And don't think I don't resent him for it, I deserve to have every single eye on me at all times, no matter who I'm speaking with.

"I think..." I trail off when he starts to walk away from me.

Who does he think he is? Nobody, and I mean nobody, walks away from Angelina Devon.

"And just where do you think you're going?" I demand, catching up to him before he makes his way across the room.

He looks at me for a few seconds, smirks, and points to a large table covered with a lacy white tablecloth. "Over there, brainless. We have to sign in first."

"I knew that," I say haughtily.

I think I hear him mutter something sarcastic under his breath, but I can't really be sure about it, not when he says it so quietly.

Well, whatever! It's not like I'm going to be taking orders from him anyway... I've spent too much time preparing for this moment to not lead the Careers to the final six. I have got it all planned out... I'll lead a few hunts for the other tributes, get the best kills, (the most sponsor points) and ultimately be the next victor of the Games. And then... then I'll be showered in gold and adoration and Jordan will be sorry he ever tried to outshine me... and Mom and Dad! I can't forget about them! When I win, it'll be like Abbi the asshole never existed!

This can only end well for me!

I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for a blue Capitol lady to pin a number on my back. She's taking too long helping Scout out, and she hasn't even noticed my hot pink tracksuit. I found it in my closet this morning when I woke up, and, knowing that I'd look totally hot in it, I just had to put it on. In fact, I'm thinking about how many compliments I'll get for it that I'm startled when someone clears their throat.

"Hurry up!" Scout says and I can tell his patience—or lack thereof—is wearing thin.

I look down at my outfit, where a sparkly pink "one" is pinned to my jacket. I wonder when that happened...

I roll my eyes. "You can hold on! Nobody's going to start without me!"

"Really?" he nods toward a group of people gathered by the target practice section of the gym. I guess they're the rest of our allies or something, because Scout wouldn't look so smug if it was anyone else.

"Humph."

I don't look him in the eyes when I stomp past him, making a beeline for the other four tributes. I mean, I really don't have time to deal with this! How dare they start making plans without me! Don't they know who they're dealing with?

"What's going on?" I ask the second I'm within earshot.

The guy with a yellow "four" on his chest is the only one to answer me. "Wondering when you guys were going to show up."

I stare at the pathetic bunch of losers in front of me. They all seem ten times weaker, more stupid, and lazier than I am. I don't see how I'm supposed to work with these morons. Especially that girl from four, who hasn't even noticed me yet!

"Don't you mean if?" The District 2 girl says.

And that's when I decide to put my foot down.

"Listen up!" I announce in the most authoritative voice I can manage. "This is how things are going to work. You,"—I point to the tributes from four—"are going to scope out the other tributes. District 2..." I try to remember the guy's name, but I can't come up with it.

"Adrian." Someone tells me.

"Yeah. Adrian... you go work with the spears. And Scout and Whatever-your-name-is can go to the plant I.D. station."

Scout looks highly pissed off now, his teeth are clenched and he looks a little red in the face. He'd be stupid to try to contradict me, but he realizes this at the last second and stalks off before he has the chance to do anything stupid.

Good for him.

The girl from two doesn't move, though, and I don't know why she isn't jumping at the chance to get on my good side—the idiot.

"Who died and made you queen?"

Excuse me? She did not just say that!

"No one." I say, speaking slowly, because obviously she is dumber than I first thought. "I was born queen."

"You're an idiot."

I slap her across the face.

It's a knee-jerk reaction, leftover from when Abbi was still alive. It's like my body physically repels people who think they're better than me.

District 2 puts her hand to her cheek, grits her teeth, and then lunges at me.

But I don't feel any pain.

An official—rather, a trainer from the hand-to-hand combat booth that happened to be standing nearby—catches her around the waist and pulls her off in the opposite direction. She's screaming horrible things at me and he's reading her the riot act. No fighting, training or otherwise, before the Games blah blah blah.

I smile.

After a few minutes, I feel bored enough that I actually decide to show-off a little bit. I wasn't originally going to do much of anything... I've already mastered most every weapon... and doing the same thing over and over again is dull, but I decide that I got off on the wrong foot with everyone, they just don't see how awesome I am. Maybe a little damage control is needed here...

My eyes land on a set of throwing knives glittering on the wall.

Perfect.

I walk over to the open area, grab a dummy from the abandoned pile to the right of the knives, and start target practice.

Or, I try to.

Someone else comes up and grabs both of the knives' handles before I do.

I whirl around, ready to fight for the weapons if I have to. A girl with black hair and green eyes stares back at me with a look of pure annoyance. The label on her chest tells me she is from six.

The unnamed girl uses the time I've taken to figure out who she is to make sure she has the knives. She heads over to my dummy and throws one knife mannequin's head.

I start to yell at her, but I realize that the blade has gone right through the thing's eye. Fake blood pours from its wound, creating a puddle on the blue mat, staining it.

Holy freaking crap!

She's actually... kind of... okay.

"What's your name?" I ask her.

She studies me for a second before saying, "Almandine."

"Welcome to the Careers." I stick my hand out, and she takes it almost without a thought, sealing the deal.

District 3: Clint Manti

Deep breaths... deep breaths.

I tell myself this repeatedly. Over and over and over again, until the loud buzz of the training gym begins to fade away, turning into white noise. I try to keep my thoughts clear, free of the stresses Lillian and even Emily gave me before I left District 3. I tell myself that Dad will make sure she's safe and Ace will definitely calm Em down. Everything. Will. Be. Okay.

Okay...

My muscles begin to relax and I gently chastise myself for not meditating before that reaping... for not relaxing.. for worrying over Em and Lily and Ace and Dad and myself. Everyone.

Worrying for nothing... I think, nothing at all...

I feel like I'm floating on air by now. Life, despite the imminent threat of the Hunger Games, is peaceful. So tranquil...

And then it's ruined.

I jump when a loud bang rings in my ears. It sounds like pots and pans clattering on the floor, like a huge mess, so close to me... too close, really. My eyes open instinctively, immediately searching for any danger, because surely something terrible is about to get me... except nothing harmful is in a close radius to me—or any of the other tributes for that matter—and I instantly feel stupid, especially because now I'm jumping at even the smallest of noises.

And then I realize that it was only a piece of armor somebody knocked of its hook.

That's. It.

But still—I can't seem to get rid of the fear growing inside of me.

District 8: Drizzle Plont

"I hate my hair."

"I know, you've told me a thousand and one times already."

I huff indignantly. "Make it a thousand and two, then."

Skylark looks at me quizzically, like somehow he knows that my hair is not the only thing bothering me, though I'm still cursing Palma for making me look half-bald, the bitch.

"What's really wrong?"

"This entire thing, Skylark! One of us has to die, and I don't know who I want it to be." I sigh, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Most people, or at least most people I know, would take that as an insult. I'm certain they would feel like I spat in their face, but not Skylark. He gets it—gets me. He knows I don't want him dead, but that I mean that I'm not really sure of what's worse. Death or life. Most victors from eight will tell you that dying is the best option, but I want to live—and I want my brother to live, too..

It's awful.

He puts a comforting arm around my shoulder. "I know, Drizzle. I know."

"Good."

"Oh... how touching!"

I look up at the sound of a new voice breaking into a conversation.

Mercy Tenebrae is standing in front of us, an annoying smirk on her face.

"What do you want?" I demand, glaring at her.

She throws an irritated glance over her shoulder, and I can tell that she's looking at that girl from District 1. "A sharper knife."

"Yeah," Skylark agrees, "I think several people would be more than happy to get one for you."

"Would you be one of them?"

This conversation just morphed into something that doesn't include me, and it pisses me the hell off. Skylark never excludes me from anything. As kids, I remember him purposely scraping his knee whenever I did, just so I wouldn't have to be the only one who was hurt... the only one who cried.

That memory alone makes me mad enough to leave him there, not that he'd even realize I left.

Humph. Whatever. I don't need him either, I have more important stuff to attend to, like learning how to use weapons and how to tie knots. Things that my dumb brother is too stupid to do. In fact... I could try to use those things. Swords that resemble tridents, only much cooler looking. I walk over to where they sit on the wall. The little tag underneath it tells me that they are Sai Swords.

I take one off the peg and begin to stab a nearby dummy with it. Repeatedly, until my anger at Skylark has faded away.

"Hey!"

I jump. Turn around.

Damn it! It's that kid from the elevator.

"What are you doing?" he asks with genuine curiosity, the same kind from before.

"None of your business," I reply, hoping he'll leave me alone.

He doesn't even blink.

This is going to be a long-ass day.

District 7: Beech Lignum

When I see little Wendy talking to Bengal, I can't help but to think of Maggie and her friends.

Of course, these kids are clearly capable of holding a real conversation, one that doesn't involve flowers or cookies or candy, but my heart still goes out to them nonetheless.

I drop the piece of rope I had been holding and walk over to them.

They are talking about berries—what kinds are good to eat and what aren't.

"Nightlock is bad."

"But strawberries aren't." Wendy says.

"Hey guys."

They both turn to me, semi-scared expressions on their faces. "Hi." Bengal answers.

I decide to cut right to the chase.

"Do you guys need another ally?"

They only consider my offer for a few seconds. "Sure."

Good. Now Maggie won't remember me as a violent killer, she'll just remember me as dead.

What do you think of the tribute interaction so far? And I have all the alliances planned out, and as you can see in this chapter. There will be more on the Beech/Wendy/Bengal alliance next chapter which will be way longer.