War, children!

It's just a shot away.

— The Rolling Stones

Rayann Grace Carter, Victor

So mentoring was kind of weird. When Contessa had acted as my escort and temporary mentor, I didn't really think much of it. But it was a lot of stress and work. When Magnus and Leda went down to train until five PM, I presumed that I was free to lounge around and mope for the rest of the day. It wasn't that easy; Contessa had dragged me out into the Capitolian city, a marvel I hadn't seen before. High rise apartments littered the scene, followed by statues of previous Presidents, Hunger Games Victors and war heroes.

There was everything I expected in a great city, not the labyrinthine urban area that was District Five. I walked past lit up roads as hovercrafts buzzed over my head, I saw grand monuments and museums. We casually strolled past hundreds of stores. Some of them were even chain stores, with Capitolites getting food and walking out with it in seconds. Their coloured faces and strange hair blurred past me as I became one with the crowd, many noticing me and asking me to sign my autograph. Contessa said our aim was to interact with sponsors and get them to send money towards Leda and Magnus.

"Oh my god!" Two Capitolian teens approached me. One fanned herself. "I can't believe I'm speaking to the amazing Rayann Grace Carter! Please, please, please, give me your autograph!"

I felt swarmed. So many people in this shopping centre, and all of them were approaching me fast. Contessa managed to hold most of them off, talking about how brilliant and amazing Magnus and Leda were. I saw the District Nine escort stroll around an untidy food court, trying to speak to snobbish elderly people as they munched on greasy meat. He wasn't quite as interesting as a Victor was, though, so in this area I got all the attention, which meant more potential sponsors.

"I'll sign it, but make sure you give a few credits to Magnus Carmine or Leda Viscoy!" I grinned, trying to sign an autograph while I was compressed by the colourful crowd. "We want another District Five tribute to make it this year!"

"Oh my god," one girl wailed.

I couldn't believe they were reacting in this way. I mean, I was just some girl from District Five. I was nothing to cry about. I didn't have charisma or stardom, but just being Rayann Carter, the Victor, seemed to be enough for them. I struggled to get out of the mall as they harassed me, and in order to keep a friendly appearance I was asked questions that made me uncomfortable: one of Bethuny, some about my family, some about how I'll feel when one - or both - of my tributes die and my opinions on District Thirteen. I answered them, but that didn't make it any less difficult.

As we approached the glass doors that alleviated me from the inside of the large, glass building, one timid girl with pink hair stopped me. She smiled up at me, and there was a familiarity to her.

"Hey, I'm Shanae Titherington," she said, holding out a book on the Hunger Games history. "It'd be cool to have your autograph."

"Yeah, Shanae," I smiled, writing down her name. "Enjoy your Hunger Games," I spoke the words I fluidly wrote on the book, my wrist throbbing. "Lots of love, Rayann!" Beside me, Contessa was speaking to six or seven people at once.

"I want you to know that Magnus Carmine is strong, capable, nice and Leda... she's a very... sweet girl... with a great sense of humour! So maybe you could consider sending a few credits in for her during the Games, just to keep her alive long enough to plaster a permanent smile across that beautiful little face of yours!"

I rolled my eyes. Soon people began to swarm around in even bigger numbers, and the claustrophobia became overwhelming. I was willing to bet that people had called up their friends and family to alert them of my presence, and that pictures of me had begun to litter the strange social-sites that Capitolites communicated on. I noticed their cameras and devices all targeted at me, and I think Shanae sensed my worry. She gave me one unsure smile before walking away, and said:

"By the way, I'm really sorry about your mother and Layla. I know that if I were you, I wouldn't be going quite as strong as you are right now. I really admire that."

As Peacekeepers helped Contessa and I escape, I was suddenly enlightened. Nobody - not even people at home - had bothered to offer any condolences regarding my mother and Layla who, despite my indifferent face, I had missed every single day, the days of their funerals being the only exception. It was so easy for us to view the Capitol as monsters. But here they were, normal people and kind people, living day by day with the humanity every other human had, the only sin they committed was being oblivious. I couldn't help but feel my stomach churn slightly as Contessa nipped us into a limousine, where we were whisked away.

"We're home dears!" Contessa strode into the District Five quarters.

As we entered she threw her fur coat and bag aside. The corridor in front of me seemed empty, but I knew the rooms were occupied, because Leda's loud, out-of-tune voice was heard in sync with a shower. Contessa made her way to her private quarters and, due to the fact I felt upset and drained, I tried following suite.

However, waiting for me, standing in front of my bedroom door, was Magnus. He held that same old intimidating edge as he towered over me, looking down at me with his steely eyes. Everything about him, from his slightly jagged teeth to his buzz-cut hair, sent waves of worry within me. I glanced at him questioningly for a second.

"We need to talk," he said. "About this morning."

"Oh..." I frowned, not liking the thought of talking to Magnus after he had tried to attack me. After today, I also just wanted to be alone. We both stopped talking, letting the background noise be Leda's awful singing. "Yeah, lets go into the sitting room."

I quickly walked into the room and sat on a plush couch, Magnus slumping down beside me in a casual manner. Not wanting to look into his eyes, I tried searching for something to do, and so I meddled around with the television, continuously changing channels as Magnus glanced at me inquisitively.

"What did you do today?" I small talked.

"Oh, trained," Magnus leant back a bit, kicking his feet onto an ash table. "Leda and I are officially allies."

"Oh, cool," I smiled. They seemed like a strange pair to me, but Magnus was strong and capable, so he would ally with somebody else. Right? Maybe he didn't really care, or maybe he was bound by District loyalty, but I couldn't help but wonder... "Leda is... interesting..."

"You were tempted to say annoying," Magnus laughed.

"No! I like her!" I said, telling a half lie. I settled on an old re-run of a previous Games, which wouldn't usually be something I'd show in front of my tributes, but it didn't involve blood and gore; two Careers were perched on a tree, talking about their families back at home. I wonder if Magnus had a family? I didn't really want to know. He was in prison, but that didn't mean there was no-one who wanted him back, and I did hear Leda's family sob when she was reaped. Those families were counting on me to return the tributes... and I had to... "She's definitely... maybe... obnoxious," I sighed. "But maybe it's her way of coping. I mean, we're all trying our hardest to get one of you out alive, and the prospect of near imminent death just isn't nice and can make you cold. I should know, I was in Leda's shoes once."

"She's good underneath is all," Magnus agreed. "Rayann... I need to tell you something important..."

"I know."

"I have a fucked up past. It's really fucked up," Magnus said, looking at me seriously. "I'm in prison for a reason. And I... I don't want to scare you but I have hallucinations. If I'm not given anti-psychotics, I lose myself," somehow, Magnus' revelation didn't shock me. And at the same time my stomach turned, even if I kept my reaction relatively indifferent. "I see things, I become a different guy - a bad guy."

"You're not going to get those anti-psychotics into the arena," I said numbly. "They'll claim it can be used as poison, a weapon or something. I'm guessing you didn't plan to bring them in as a token anyway?"

"Oh, something I made," Magnus showed me some kind of knife handle. "It can't be used as a weapon. I like it, though, the design and stuff. But anyway..." He paused. "I was scared because my tablets were running out. I didn't get to see my psychiatrist to get prescribed them again," he buried his head in his hands. "I can't count on myself to survive if I lose my mind. I can't count on myself to keep Leda safe if I lose my mind. I'm bigger and stronger than her... and if I snap..."

My heart suddenly beat faster. "We have to do something," I leant forward, gripping his hands tightly. "Look, I'm a recent victor, and have media attention. I managed to get you and Leda a good chunk of sponsor money and I promise I will get the funds to send you something... psychiatric medicine should be on the sponsor list..." I paused. "Don't worry just yet Magnus. I'll do something... I will..."

Despite my reassurances, the boy before me, the enigmatic, mysterious boy who I had up until now been terrified of, seemed so vulnerable in front of me. And once again I was reminded of all the injustices that followed those in the Games.

Daymiun Atilia, District 9 Escort

My tributes were excruciatingly silent. Every time we were together, none of them would talk. I guess I was kind of quiet myself, so it was kind of nice to just sit there and eat in silence. The girl was sullen and tall, with a mane of dark hair that always seemed to cover her scrutinising eyes. The boy, who looked a lot more glum, was short, broad and dark featured. As I played with a bowl of gelatin before me, I watched them. Giovanni would occasionally observe us, whereas Tear ate her meal heartily.

I was ultimately relieved that they weren't killers. Or were they? I couldn't be too sure. Both of my tributes last year were reaped, and both turned out to be maniacs who had killed my Avox and (in the case of Cardinal) other tributes brutally. Both of my tributes this year were volunteers, which I would usually be cool with, but they were both so silent. I felt like I didn't know them.

"So..." I decided to start conversation for once. "How was training today?"

Giovanni shrugged, scratching the stubble that crept over his jawline. Suddenly, he smirked a little bit. "I haven't really been training."

Tear glanced up at him, a little shocked.

"Why not?" She said, her spoon diving into a bowl of soup. "I mean, you volunteered for this. As did I. Why volunteer for something that you don't even put any effort into? Are you trying to kill yourself?" She shrugged, and spoke after taking a sip of soup. "All the better for me, I guess. You getting yourself killed eliminates the competition a little bit, considering I've spent the past two days training hard, learning as much as I can about both weapons and survival. I even made an ally yesterday."

"Oh? That's gr-"

"Hold up a minute," Giovanni glared at the girl across for him. "First and foremost, we'll establish that my reasons and motivations for volunteering aren't any of your business. Now that's out the way, I'll tell you why I don't train," he grinned a little. "Because all that stuff the Gamemakers throw in front of us... the water and the weapons, they're all background items, like the chariot costumes they're masquerades. What I really focus on is the tributes. Their weaknesses and what makes them tick," with curiosity, I watched Giovanni wrap some spaghetti around his fork. "For example, the Careers. They are a ticking time bomb. If you nudge them in the right direction, they'll explode."

Tear paused, letting Giovanni's words sink in. "Do you know my weakness?"

"Yes," Giovanni looked at her darkly. "And representing District Nine in the Hunger Games is..." I noticed Giovanni had mimicked my voice... perfectly. His hand slipped into an invisible Reaping bowl and he slowly withdrew one sheet of paper, pretending to unroll it and looking at the piece of paper. "Rita Boulder!"

"Don't..." Tear hissed, paling considerably.

"She is your weakness," Giovanni grinned, dropping his pretenses. "I only had to look at you volunteer for that girl to know she meant something to you. And I know she means a lot. So what is she... family, best friend?"

"She's my girlfriend," Tear croaked, looking into her soup. I noticed she had suddenly lost her appetite, and she shoved her bowl away. "And she means everything to me. Before she existed, I lived my life in the shadow of my family, with no meaning. My family own a business, and my life revolved around that, school, meaningless socialising. They knew I was..." The word was still hard to say. I knew homosexuality was accepted in the Capitol, but I was still used to the stigma it carried in District Nine. "A lesbian, my family, and were accepting. I never expected to fall in love. And when I did... everything changed... and in the years we've been together, I know I can't go without her now. Living life blind is much easier when you were born blind than having to know what it is like to have seen."

Hearing Tear's backstory suddenly put things to light. The sullen, sulky girl before me suddenly seemed... Human. Up until now it was easy to assume she volunteered for more superficial reason, not out of love. And now I was looking at her as she spilt her heart out, and I noticed a sympathetic glint in Giovanni's eyes, and was painfully aware that I was dealing with two people. People who wanted to get home to those they love, who were willing to make sacrifices.

"I'm going to bed," Tear said, standing up. "It's a long day tomorrow, scores. And I need sleep to make sure I get the highest score possible. I'm sorry to speak to you as if you were my counselor, Giovanni."

"My mother is a counselor," Giovanni smiled, looking at his plate. "I'm used to people leaking out their life story. Hence why I know a lot about psychology. Hence why I sit in the training centre making notes about every tribute's weaknesses. Like... did you know the girl from District Eleven had impulsive behaviour, which could perhaps be categorised into a mental illness? Did you know the District Twelve girl is suffering from a mild eating disorder?" He glanced up at me. "And there's your ally, Tear... she's interesting. She has a high IQ. You should keep her close."

I was impressed my Giovanni's insightfulness, and decided to speak up for the first time in forever. After starting small talk, Giovanni and Tear's conversation had flowed so naturally, but suddenly I was interested in Giovanni.

"Well what about you?"

Giovanni glanced at me. "What?"

"What about you? You know so much about other people... what about yourself? And why did you volunteer?"

"I... well," Giovanni rubbed the back of his head nervously, and though Tear said she was going to go I noticed she also gave him an interrogating look as he struggled for words. I suppose one interesting observation I made - one I could have predicted - was that though Giovanni could learn all these things about other people, he never took a step back and analysed himself. Maybe there was a reason he didn't do that. Maybe he didn't want to look into himself and see the darkness and pain he saw in others. "I can't answer that question accurately. And I'm here because of family..."

"You didn't volunteer for anyone..."

Giovanni's jaw clenched defensively. "I did it for the money. My family are poor and we needed the money, okay?"

Giovanni said this with a straight face and a firm tone, glancing at Tear with annoyance. I tried to look for signs that he was lying, the slightest sign, and yet his face remained solid. It looked like both of my tributes were doing it for the family, and as I had hoped, despite the coldness he held, Giovanni did not possess a heart of ice. Tear began to walk out of the room, but as she did she spoke:

"I believe you, but I've never seen anyone struggle for money and wear a suit at the Reaping before. I'd have sold that and made enough to last me three months before deciding to volunteer."

Her words hung in the air, and Giovanni's head hung low for a second as she left. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. And I couldn't help but feel bad for Tear, too. Maybe if I knew the stories behind everyone, I'd feel bad for everyone. I had to dehumanise myself from every other tribute but my own, though: these guys were the only ones that could afford to win. Giovanni and I dined for about ten more minutes in silence, though he barely ate, and mostly played with his food. After experimentally eating a mouthful of pizza, he stood up and walked away without a word.

I knew what it was like to lose family. My father had left my mother at a young age, and I grew up as an introverted and lonely child who wanted to prove himself. I guess I did when I became a Hunger Games escort. My Aunt River, one of the last remaining family members I had, disapproved. But she was always vehemently opposed to the Capitol. Last year, in the spur of the moment, she went missing along with my niece Charity. And though I didn't say anything, though my mother and I acted as if she had never existed in the first place, I couldn't help but wonder what happened to her.

But this was the Capitol that had gotten to her. I'd never know.

Lillian McNicks, District 12 Escort

Knowing that Tobias and Ruth, the two most important Gamemakers, had summoned me urgently, I knew that something was up. I didn't think that they had summoned the escorts or mentors from any other Districts. I worried about my tributes. They were good people - even Freya, who was haughty, but ultimately frightened. After spending an hour on my hair and make-up, looking as presentable as possible in the hopes that it would benefit my tributes, I set off out into my room and into the District Twelve living quarters.

My heart stopped when I saw Luke was there again. Whenever there was no mealtime or training time, he literally spent every waking minute in front of the television, glued to it. He had worried that his family had perished in the bombings, but no matter how much time he spent watching the news, he'd never quite find out if they'd be okay or not. The news would constantly repeat the numbers, but never the names. When everybody was merely a statistic and not a human, we in the Capitol could retain a dormant empathy, and therefore refrain from discontent. I knew today would be like yesterday, where Luke would sit in front of the television until he slumped asleep in front of it.

"Luke..." I paused. "You won't do anything to help your chances if you just sit in front of the TV!"

Like I expected, he didn't stir. The news reporter wasn't even talking about the bombings, only about Natalia Nystalgia's new haircut. Feeling a twinge of guilt in my stomach, I pressed a button and the television immediately turned off. But Luke, however, had turned on. He burst to life again, snapping his head towards me, his tired eyes wide with anger and accusation.

"I'm watching that!"

"I know," feeling guilty, I threw the remote over to him, watching it bounce by his feet. "I just don't think it's healthy for you to do that, Luke. You have a Games to win, and I'm trying my best to help you win. I'm investing everything. But I can't waste my time and energy if you're going to sit in front of a television all of the time. Most of District Twelve survived the bombings, and I'm sure your family are going to be fine. Okay?"

Luke paused. "I wish I could agree. But I need to know if my family are okay. Even my dad, as much of a prick as he can be," he played with his hands nervously. He was somewhat twitchy and tired. "If my family are dead, and I win, what am I going back to? I want to know if I'm going back to something."

Suddenly it hit me with a grim thought that by reaping Luke, I may not have sentenced him to death, but prolonged his life. Did I call the name of a boy destined to perish in smithereens at that District? I didn't quite know. I merely nodded sympathetically, not knowing what to say, before making my way towards the doorway.

"Where are you going?"

"Out for a second," I said, pulling on my gloves. "Do you know where Freya is?"

"Said she had business to sort out," Luke shrugged. Unlike Luke, Freya didn't seem phased by the bombing in her hometown. If anything, she seemed slightly more elevated in the last day, though she did still complain to me about the fact that she was probably going to die even though she didn't deserve it and that was all my fault.

"Okay," I smiled, about to leave, but before I did I glanced at Luke once, seriously. "I'm sorry District Twelve was hit, Luke. I promise you your family will all be okay."

When he didn't answer, I sighed and strutted from one golden corridor into a red rich one. As always, it was eerily empty. The chiming of an elevator shot through my ears as I made my way towards the stairs that would lead me onto the roof, and as the pure, golden elevator doors drifted apart a dark haired woman who was slightly shorter than me made her way out into the hallway. I noticed it was Ruth, the Deputy Head Gamemaker. Though I was supposed to meet her on the roof, she had made her way out into the corridor.

I moved over to her and curtsied politely, to which she gave a weak smile.

"Where is Tobias?" I asked.

"I don't quite know..." Ruth paused. "He said he'd be on the roof by now, so I figured I'd have to do this all on my own. We've been awfully busy with pre-Game stuff as you can imagine, and finding an interviewer was absolute hell, especially when Natalya Nystalgia threatens you to put that washed up old hasbeen Jynx Blackthorne back into the position," she sighed, flipping her hair back and walking along with me. Though this corridor was mostly for the purpose of housing District Twelve's tributes, there were some doorways that led into rooms probably unoccupied and wasted. "No point beating it around the bush..."

"My tributes aren't in trouble?" I asked.

"No, not quite," Ruth sighed, glancing at a check board. "It's more about news of the tributes' families fates. You should be aware that District Twelve was bombed... and well... the boy, Luke, his family are all okay..." I smiled lightly, until she sighed sadly. "Except his mother... she... well, unfortunately she perished in the bombings."

My heart dropped slightly. What? How? Of all the people in District Twelve the boy's mother had to be the one who had died... the words still refused to sink in and Ruth cleared her throat. So many questions went into my head, and yet I didn't know what to say to Luke. What was there to say? How could I tell a boy that his mother had died? In the background, slow jazz music began to grow louder.

"You can choose to tell him," Ruth sighed. "Or to refrain such information if you think it will negatively affect his performance in the Games. But if you do that, in the unlikely event he'll win... well..." Ruth smiled weakly. "He'd get a bit of a nasty shock."

"Freya?" I gasped. "Her family?"

"From what we know, she isn't close to her family, her father is dead anyway," Ruth glanced over a few sheets of paper. "But no, her family are alive. Their house suffered some very minor damage, but no major damage, injuries or even casualties."

That was somewhat of a relief. I still found my breathing constricted as my brain began to pause like the routes between my neurons had a traffic jam of impulses. Only life would play such an ironic trick - the one who cares about his family would be the one to lose a member of them. The jazz music in the background progressively grew louder and Ruth patted me awkwardly on the back once.

Eventually, she turned, curious as to the source of the music. It seemed to be coming out from behind one of the doors. I remained paralysed in shock as she made her way towards one of the doors, and began to follow her when she twisted the door handle and found that it wouldn't open. She kicked furiously once, and somewhat intrigued I followed behind her.

"What on earth?" Ruth asked.

I kicked the door harshly, shaking it so that it almost burst from its hinges and threw itself open. The muffled jazz music was now on full blast, and Ruth's eyes widened as a most unpleasant sight unfolded before us.

"Tobias!" Ruth screeched.

"What? Freya?"

Tobias had been tied to a chair by pink, fluffy handcuffs. He had been gagged with his own robes, with a terrified look in his eyes as Freya stood before him in her underwear. She was shaking her behind in front of him and was directly facing us. Upon seeing us at the doorway, she defensively stopped, covering herself as Ruth stormed in angrily.

"What on earth are you doing with the tributes?" She snapped, yanking the clothing that restricted Tobias from speaking. Still looking extremely nervous, he gasped as she threw the material free from him.

"We could have had so much fun..." Freya purred, she glanced at me. "He was reluctant, but after tying him up I think I was close to convincing him." She smirked suggestively at Tobias. "Remember my proposition, babe. And remember, I only have two days left here, so if you're prepared to tip the balance in my favour, you have two days to have me all to your-"

"Out!" I grabbed Freya, who was almost putting on a red, satin dress. I launched her and the satin dress out of the room, locking it behind me and glaring at Tobias and Ruth.

"I cannot believe-"

"She had just grabbed me and tied me up!"

"You are a married man!"

"I didn't want to! I was practically being assaulted!"

"If the President ever knew-"

"Stop arguing like children, both of you!" I snapped, both Gamemakers turning to face me. "Ruth, you know Tobias rejected Freya, she said so herself! She is trying to play the Gamemakers, sleep with them in the hopes of creating Gamemaker bias..." I sighed. It was incredibly clever of Freya, especially to go for the most important Gamemaker. Too bad he was married and completely devoted to his supermodel wife.

Ruth and Tobias both paused and Ruth sighed, strolling out of the room before giving Tobias one last angry glare. I knew that Tobias had a particularly close relationship with his Deputy, but as she unlocked the door and slammed it behind her aggressively, I couldn't help but notice her feelings for him. Which was awkward, considering Tobias was best friends with her now dead husband. Gamemaker dynamics had, in recent years, been complicated and dramatic, so it was strange to notice it first hand.

Tobias glanced at me, embarrassed. Slow jazz music blared in the background, its smoothness contrasting with the awkward atmosphere in the room. After a painful few seconds he walked over to the music player and muted it by swiping his hand over the touch pad.

"Awkward," he smiled, straightening his prestigious blue robes before moving over to the doorway. "Anyway, I'll see you later Lillian, and please give Luke my deepest condolences." He frowned, and it was genuine. "That's a pretty awful thing to happen to a kid."

A chord struck within me. Maybe because I was reminded of what had happened to Luke and his family, or maybe because it seemed to me that Tobias was sending a kid to his death obliviously, but sympathising with him when hearing that his parents died. As he walked out of the room, I couldn't help but feel the hypocrisy. And yet I was suddenly struck with the moral dilemma of whether to tell Luke his mother had been killed or not.

Walking towards the doorway, sweat crossing my face and knowing he'd be eagerly watching the television for the news, I decided against it, or even considered lying that the Capitol had sent me the news that his family were okay. Such lies were awful to tell, but it could ultimately help him survive, so maybe not every lie was bad after all, if told with good intent...

Right?

Markoz Darlington, District 6 Escort:

I was suddenly jolted out of a good dream when the phone began buzzing loudly, shaking on the table as I tried to gather my composure and distinguish dreams and reality. My vision was still clouded as my hand lazily tried finding the telephone. When I did, I brought it to my ear, trying to make my voice sound much more alert:

"Hello?"

"Hey Markoz!" A cheery girl spoke down the phone. "This is Enarife!"

Ah, of course. I remember Enerife vaguely: large jaw, square forehead, never stopped talking as she jabbed numbers into a calculator. She worked in a building across the city, mostly focusing on finances and sponsor money. It was unusual for her to call before the Games had even started, so I perked up a little bit, the wakefulness beginning to conquer the last dregs of sleepiness.

"And?"

"Well, it's early days, and sponsoring doesn't come in much until the training scores and interviews," Enarife explained. I can almost imagine her mouth, which was big enough to fit a watermelon whole, contorting into a smile. "But we do get a little bit for the chariot rides. I'm not going to insult anyone here," people in the Capitol usually said such a thing before spouting out insults. "Your tributes' costumes were great! We've never quite had hovering costumes before, but something interesting has happened..." She paused. "Initially, they got a good few thousand credits, you know, slightly more than modest amount considering how far in we are. But now they have..." She paused. "Well, they have well over a million, which is unusual. All the sponsoring is directed towards the Careers, who had hundreds of thousands, but the Careers' funds have all but vanished. Every penny from every tribute has gone into District Six's funds."

My heart skipped a beat. Was it joy or confusion that made my stomach lurch? Whatever it was, a small smile crept across my face. "Seriously? Maybe people retracted their credits..."

"Not possible," Enarife immediately butted in. "Sponsors sign contract agreements: once you submit your money and direct it towards a District and or tribute, there's no changing your mind and no refunds." I heard a pen scribble something down. "And no offence, but though your tributes don't look like definite bloodbaths... well, the boy doesn't anyway... people aren't going to gamble for them to win instead of tough, attractive and interesting Careers. And every penny of sponsor money - every single one from every District... doesn't miraculously disappear. The Games are never so unanimous."

My face grew hot with embarrassment. "So what happened?"

"I came here to ask you."

Was that suspicious? I sounded affronted as I spoke back into the phone: "Excuse me! I am as clueless as you are! So if it's no-one we know, what is the verdict here?"

"Rebels."

I paused at the word. I didn't even believe rebels still existed, really. Occasionally waves of rebellion would crop up in the Districts, but never in the Capitol itself. Even so, such waves faded like the tides. I knew recently District Four and Ten had a large flock of rebels, but beyond that I was oblivious to anything else happening. How could any rebels hack Capitolian technology? We were safe from those brutish beasts. I paused, feeling somewhat disillusioned.

"Well, we'll just calculate the sponsor distributions before this little glitch," Enarife said, the darkness in her previous words fading and becoming bubbly once more. "It's no biggie! Speak later!"

The phone suddenly cut dead. Somewhat confused, I threw it back onto the line and began to lean up. I had arrived back from trying to find sponsors for my tributes, and was exhausted after speaking to uninterested rich people. When I returned home, I fell asleep without consciously attempting to. I quickly stood up, ready to call my tributes - they must have missed their dinner! However, right on cue, the dark haired Sebastian walked in with a smile on your face.

"Hello sleeping beauty," he said, pausing. "Or... whatever the male version of that is... you missed dinner."

"Oh dear, I'm awfully sorry," I began straightening out my clothes, ensuring that my lilac colouring was on form as I quickly glanced into the mirror. After adjusting a thick wig, I smiled. "Much better. How was dinner?"

"Nice enough," Sebastian said with a smile. "You should have tried the tart."

"I have, dear, a hundred times over," I quickly marched towards the now empty dining room in the hope that it would have some leftovers. It was interesting to see District kids eat things so gratefully, while food to me had become part of the background. It often felt as if I had ate everything there was to eat - and thrown it up, of course - a hundred times over. Now everything became tasteless, just there to be pretty. It was strange that here in the Capitol we didn't even care about the things a District kid would kill someone else for. "Where is Brandy?"

As we stopped outside a bathroom door, a lady's sign on it, Sebastian jerked her thumb towards it, to suggest that Brandy was in there. Knowing she was probably busy, I pushed against the door to see if it was locked. It wasn't.

"Weird," Seb paused. "I haven't seen her leave in a while."

"What?" I paused. "How long?"

"A couple of hours..." Sebastian admitted, looking humiliated as he rubbed the back of his head.

Fear seized me. What if Brandy had killed herself? That would be my life on the line. The President gave the Escorts millions and millions of credits for the simple task of taking two tributes and escorting them to the Capitol, teaching them etiquette and our way of life and making sure they made it into the Games unscathed. He didn't expect much. To fail at such a simple job would definitely mean execution. I forced the door open and screamed when I saw Brandy leaning against the sink, eyes closed.

"No!"

Sebastian took the initiative, running toward the girl's tiny figure. I noticed empty needles scattered around her. Sebastian moved to check her pulse, but, to my relief, Brandy coughed and glanced up to Seb with dazed eyes.

"That's some good shit."

"What the-?" Sebastian started.

"That's... that's... morphling..."

"Yeah," Brandy slurred, about to stand up. Her words were barely distinguishable, and she seemed to randomly smile, her line of sight following things that weren't really there. "It's bedtime, you see... and... well... I always take morphling before bedtime. It's great. It lets you have lucid dreams, you know, when you can control stuff? I took it back in District Six because it was nice to be in control for once, instead of having everyone else fucking control everything," Seb was much stronger than Brandy, and led her towards the doorway. "But now I'm here, worrying about my life every day, I take it pretty often. I escape..."

"You're thirteen!" Seb said, shocked. I moved aside as he led her out of the bathroom. "You shouldn't be taking morphling! It's bad for you!"

She giggled, and then hiccoughed. "Does that really matter? I want to live... while I can. Imagine if I had done everything the scientists said. I exercised... parkour is great... b-but imagine if I only ate healthy stuff, or didn't enjoy morphling, all that shit just to live a longer life..." She smirked, her eyebrows raising as she glanced at me, striking guilt into me. "And then someone plucks your name and it's taken all away."

I didn't respond. I tried being defiant and glared at her, but she wasn't even attentive of her surroundings. I heard her giggle as a compassionate Sebastian moved her towards her bedroom, probably to tuck her away. They weren't even allies, Sebastian had coupled with the Ten girl, and yet he was still being so kind. I could only wish that I could be so kind, but somehow, I knew that being part of the Capitol had stopped me from being that kind of person, even if I didn't want to admit it.

Prepare for 2 big rants, because you guys have given me stuff to talk about (I know you're all cheering).

Rant numero uno: Blogs. People have requested to me via PM or review that I make a blog. That seems to be the current trend in the SYOT community (which I usually reluctantly follow, like quotes or - now - a sponsoring system), and that's cool. But no. I won't have a blog for numerous reasons: first, they seem pointless to me, just giving simple details and a faceclaim. That's all they exist for, and are only updated to announce the tribute's alliance or current situation. These are things an author should convey in their story. Secondly, people always judge tributes and stick to their judgments because of these superficial qualities such as District, age and physique. Thirdly I feel as if people cannot visualise how the tributes look (I may give descriptions, but the image is still your interpretation, and I value different interpretations; it makes my reviews more interesting) when it's slapped right in front of them. Oh, and fourthly, I find faceclaims silly. Why? They're all famous people, of course. And why is using famous people to make up all 24 tributes bad? Well, because celebrities tend to be (lets admit it) very attractive, or at least their photos are. When you reap 24 tributes, sadly, not all or most of them look like A/B listers.

To the many who use blogs - please don't take my words personally! Maybe, for whatever reason, you need them for a purpose I don't need them for. I understand that.

Secondly, I've had a few people inquiring and worrying about tribute representation. Calm down people! :) Everyone will get their spotlight & more, and we've still got 6 chapters left until the bloodbath! My pre-Games structure gets you to know the tributes as much as possible, but you'll get to know them at different times, some later than others. Your tribute will get a POV, as well as featuring in other people's POV's and being involved in their mentor's/escort's POV! Calm down :)

PS – Next chapter will be late. I'm going to Berlin on a holiday!

~Toxic