A/N: Well, that's the Reapings out the way. Now we can move on to something far more important, character interaction. That's pretty much what these next few chapters will be about. Getting you to feel for other people's characters before I butcher most of them. I've only written four characters this chapter, but I expect to write more as the Games get further in, so we'll see how it goes.

As always I'd love your comments, and I was very pleased by how much of a response I got to the last chapter. Enjoy.

The Ninety Fifth Hunger Games

Train Rides

Verity Marx, age 17 (C1 Female)

Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!

This is so cool!

Not only do I, me, Verity Marx, manage to be one of those lucky, lucky twelve who managed to win the best seats in the Capitol to watch the Games, but I'm sitting next to Dallas Orchid! The Dallas Orchid! Son of the owners of Capitech and one of the hottest guys I've ever met!

And I'm on a limo!

Just when everyone had finally arrived at the Gamesmaker HQ place and I was thinking that this day couldn't get any better, a bunch of limos show up, they tell us that they're taking us to the Tributes Tower and we're all bundled in, four to a limo.

I need to slow down and think for a second. I'm getting kind of giddy.

Okay, so the other two kids in our limo are Xio and Cesse. They're sitting opposite us, like, fifteen yards or something away huddled around Cesse's camera whispering to each other. Cesse is trying to act like he's not to interested in the whole thing, but he's not a very good actor. The two are just perfect for each other! Ever so often Xio will point something out or Cesse will flick to the next picture and they'll both giggle. I can't imagine what they could be looking at but the pair of them are acting like it's the greatest secret on earth. They're a cute couple. I wonder how long it'll take for them to become an item. Not long if I have anything to say about it! I let the woozy smile on my face grow as I watch them. The only thing I enjoy more than chatting up guys and partying is helping my friends to chat up guys, and this Xio girl is cool enough to be one of my friends. Oh man this day is gonna be so fun!

Now that I think about it Dallas doesn't look to good. He seems kind of sad and keeps pulling at his collar and wringing his hands. It's not a good look for him. I mean, he's got all those cool feathers in his hair and they just don't look good all droopy with worry like that.

"Hey," I mumble, reaching over to Dallas and tapping him on the shoulder, blushing slightly as he looks up at me through a row of droopy green and blue feathers.

"Well hey." He flashes me a smile and runs a hand through his feathers, "What can ah do for you?" A warm tingling sensation runs down my spine as Dallas speaks. What can I say, I like guys with cool accents.

"We-well." Damn, I'm normally so good at this whole flirting thing, I do it enough after all but, god knows why, this guy has really got me flustered. It's all the drink Verity, it's just the drink. He's not that hot. It's just the drink making you think he is, nothing more. "Actually I was more worried about- about what I could do for you, I mean..."

"What could ya do for me?" Dallas grins, raising an eyebrow and winking. Oh damn, he's asking questions. Why does he need to know how I want to help him? Can't he just accept I want to help?

"I don't know." I reply, feeling slightly stupid, "You seem kind of... droopy." He chuckles and I find myself laughing at my own mistake. Stupid alcohol, "Something I could do anything about?"

"Sure, Verity was it?" He pauses, the feathers in his hair plumping up slightly as he ruffles his hand through the clump, "If you know a good place for a babysitter. Got a little sister who needs someone to tuck her in at night while ah'm not there."

"Don't think I really know anyone," I mumble, "I'm too old for babysitters."

"Yeah?" He chuckles again, "Would you like to do it?" I shrug, trying to think of something to say.

"I have a sister." I finally manage to croak. God, listen to me. I'm supposed to be cold as ice, flirting with a boy and here I am, too flustered to even come up with a good line.

"You do?" His eyes light up at the mention of sisters, clearly his little sis is better than the stuck up, pretentious cow of a sister I've got. "Sounds like we've got something in common, eh Verity?"

I nod, before feeling something brush against my knee. My eyes dart down and register the hand resting on my knee, then back up to his face. He grins at me, his eyes sparkling and I feel a blush cross my face.

And I thought things couldn't get any better!

Leighton Kelly, age 16 (D2 Female)

TV. Why am I suddenly so interested in TV? Back when I lived in the District I never gave a damn about TV. Never had time for it with all the training dad made me do but, now? Now I can't get enough of that little black box in the corner of my quarters of the train. I'm not supposed to call it a room, not now I've been Reaped. It's what dad would want me to call it. I'm a tribute now, I'm not supposed to think like a normal teenager now. I'm supposed to be a Victor and I have to think like one.

Think tactics. Think tactics. Not friends, not family, victory.

And that's why the TV is on. I need to think like a Victor. I need to select my allies. I need to win this.

Playing out before me, in an endless loop of pride and ego, are the Reapings of the tributes from Districts One, Two and Four, as well as anyone else who looks like they'll be a challenge. The District One guy, for example, is a brute. I have absolutely no idea how someone with so many scars and so much muscle can't be a Career but, according to Caesar Flickerman's factfiles, which I've also spent a lot of time studying, he's never even showed up at the Career training grounds before. His District partner, Faiza, seems to be pretty much your standard Career, but I don't like that glint she's got in her eye. She seems a lot mor confident than me, not to mention crazier. I don't think I'll really enjoy being in an alliance with her, but I guess I don't really have all that much choice. She's a Career after all, we've got to stick together or else we'll be picked off.

There's no point in watching District Two or Three. I've already seen myself walk up there about five times now and it kind of depresses me. District Three is pathetic. I hate to say that, but I've got to think like a Victor, and those two would just slow me down.

District Four seems like it could give us some good allies. They've got that weird posh dude going, so I guess he could work with us. Once again, though, the problem's the girl. I could tell she wasn't a Career even before she spoke but, for some reason, she couldn't just stand down and let a Career have a go! It's stupid and she's just going to end up dead. There's no point to keeping her in our alliance.

I almost considered putting the District Five girl or the massive guy from Seven in as Career possibles but, thinking about it, one of them's blind and the other's insane, so it's probably not the best idea I could have.

We need as many allies as we can get, so I'm just going to have to sit in this room until the train gets to its final destination trying to pick them and hope that nobody distracts me.

"So. Your Leighton?" Damn. I roll over on my bed and fix my eyes on Luke. "I thought I might find you here."

Really I'm not all that upset that Luke's interrupting me. I mean, sure we're supposed to be enemies, and dad would probably be telling me that I should be competing with him, but really, he doesn't seem all that bad. So far I've only met him once, briefly, when we were getting onto the train, but he didn't seem like a jerk or anything.

"Yeah," I sigh, pressing off on the TV remote and sitting up so that he can sit down, "I was just checking over the tapes, you know, to see who we've got on our side." He nods, a small smile creeping on to his lips as his mind turns to the Games. He's a Career through and through. Who else would smile at the thought of going to a Games where people die?

"Well, who have we got?" He asks, sitting down on the matress as he does so.

"District One and the Guy from Four."

"That's it?" He asks, his eyes widening slightly at the thought of being in such a small alliance.

"Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it?" I say with a slight smile, "But that's what we have to work with." He nods again, a frown furrowing his brows this time, and then turns away from me, staring at something that he clutches in his hands. There's a long period in which neither of us say anything, but then curiosity gets the better of me and I find myself leaning over his shoulder, staring down at a pretty woman with a big smile on her face. She's standing in a quarry, one hand wrapped around Luke's arm, the other around the shoulder of a small blond boy, who looks very much like his brother, who's standing next to Luke, grinning at the camera.

"Who are they?" I ask, pointing at the figures in the picture with three of my fingers.

My District partners jolts as he realises I am hanging over him, before returning to stare at his photo, a smile creasing across his face. "They're my family," Luke explains, "Those two are my brothers, John and James and that beauty there," His voice takes on a dreamy, far away quality as he speaks, "Is my dear fiancee."

I jump in surprise as he tells me that. In truth I haven't watched the factfile on him yet, I never would have guessed he was married.

"You have a fiancee?"

"Yeah and a kid on the way too. Ah man, mom is gonna kill me when she hears this." Luke shrugs, his smile drooping slightly and making him look less like the teen he is and more like an old man, "That kid means the world to me, you know."

"So why are you here?" I mumble. Seriously, it doesn't make sense to me. "I'm no expert but being dead doesn't really help you raise a child."

"So I'll have to not die then," Luke grins, his eyes sparkling as he rises to his feet, "How about you? Think you can get through this?" I shrug. It's something I try not to think about, dying. I mean, this morning I wasn't exactly confident. I want to tell him. I want to tell somebody that I'm not confident, that I'm not ready, but I barely know this guy. Should I do the old Career shtick and act really confident, or actually tell the truth?

"Sure I know I can get through this. I volunteered for it didn't I?" I lie, laughing uncertainly, "Besides, I'm the daughter of a Victor, I've got what it takes to win! I know I have!" That last line is more to reassure myself than it is to convince him, but Luke seems to be drawn in by my lies.

"Daughter of a Victor eh?" Luke smiles, "I remember you saying something about that. So, Miss Kelly, it sounds like we both have a reason to get home." I nod. I will make my father proud, I can't let him down. "Well then, I watch your back, you watch mine?" He holds out his hand and, after a few seconds of staring, I grip it, shaking it exuberantly.

"Sure!" I grin, "Last one out the Arena buys the drinks?"

"Of course." Luke smirks. The conversation dies down. There's nothing else to do except sit and wait for night.

I should have told him the truth. I should have said I was afraid.

I'm such a coward.

Jhoker Silo, age 15 (C4 Male)

If I could speak I would ask to be put in another limo. Simple as that. I don't think the limo they've chosen is right for me. It's not the seats, the seats are nice, and I'm sure I'd enjoy the food if I wasn't the one who ended up serving it, but the people. God I hate the people.

You know how they say three's a crowd? Yeah, well try four! I'm stuck in here with them for, God knows, hours on end, and the only person I could find who's decent is Sculptor Fitch, and he's my damn boss!

The other two chicks are just infuriating. Asfalt and Cyrix I think they're called, and I could not find you two more annoying chicks if you paid me! First things first, they're disgusting. Damn girls spent the first ten minutes of the journey making fun of me for being an Avox and then the next thirty minutes trying to get me to take my shirt off. Or at least Cyrix tried that, Asfalt got a bit embarassed by it and hid her face behind her book. Kept going on until I'd written as many insults I could think of on a sheet of paper and gave it to the weird snake girl. Well, what do you know? She just laughed at it! Didn't sound happy though, and she didn't try to convince me to strip after that, so I think I did the job pretty well.

After that? They just yammered on and on. Constantly! They would not shut up! I've been in this limo four bloody hours now and, even if I could talk, it wouldn't do me any good because there's no time to get a word in edgeways over the constant barrage of Claudius Templesmit facts!

At least Sculptor got lucky. He put in his head phones and fell asleep. His big blue head's resting on my shoulder right now, and that isn't doing anything for my masculinity.

Ah hell, they've moved on to talking about boys. If this stuff gets any girlier I think I'm gonna turn into a girl. That or punch something, but that doesn't look likely since I can't move Mr Fitch's head off of my shoulder right now! God, what does this guy weigh?

"So," Cyrix snickers, pushing Asfalt's book out of the way just as Asfalt is about to start reading again, "If you were in the Games, how would you win it?" Asfalt blinks, a smile slowly forming over her face.

"Camoflage."

"Excuse me?" Cyrix giggles, resting her hands on Asfalt's book. Asfalt grits her teeth as Cyrix's claws dig into the pages, creasing them horribly. Asfalt glares daggers at her as she does so, like she's about to rip her guts out. Cyrix doesn't seem to notice though, she just keeps on stroking the book and creasing it's pages more and more. I guess people generally don't notice stuff like that. Maybe it's just because I can't speak, so I use my eyes to work out emotions. That is one good thing about being an Avox I guess. No one ever notices you're there so they don't do anything to hide their emotions from you.

"Camoflage," Asfalt explains, a grin creasing her face as she speaks, "It works in real life and on the web, so why wouldn't it in the Games?"

"The web?" Cyrix asks, her own smile widening to ridiculous proportions, "What web would this be?" Asfalt considers, wondering whether or not she should reveal her secret, before beginning to speak.

"OK, a couple of years back I found this game on the web," Asfalt mutters, talking quietly and quickly, as though she's afraid of someone overhearing. But we're in a limo. The only person here who can hear her is me, and I can read lips. "It's like the Hunger Games only virtual. You make a tribute, choose a District, give them skills and stick them in a randomly generated Arena. Only problem was, I always made a tribute like me, and she never made it past the Bloodbath."

"Sounds about right." Cyrix laughs, "Who would get through with all those Careers around."

"Right. So I created a new plan. I act really chummy with everyone before the Games start. Go on the forums, make some friends. You know, the usual."

"Uh huh," Cyrix says in a way that suggests very strongly that she has no idea what Asfalt is talking about. Neither do I to be honest, but I know that Asfalt sounds like a nerd.

"Then, once we get to the Games, everyone wants to protect me. They all want to be in an alliance with me. My alliance has more members than the Careers!"

"Sure." Cyrix smiles.

"Then I go on some time in the early morning, before anyone else is up, and kill everyone. It works every time!" Asfalt grins as the two of them break out into hysterical, and incredibly annoying, giggles. Yeah, sure, because killing people is absolutely hilarious. "Okay, how would you win a Games?"

"Ah man," Cyrix snickers, "I never really thought of it before actually. I guess this whole 'Reapings' thing got me thinking. Dunno, I suppose I'd just join the Careers, they seem like decent fighters, and that tactic would at least keep me alive a bit longer! Don't expect I'd win though. I'm not Victor material."

"Oh you'd be surprised," Asfalt replies, "I mean, look at Kyte Luch, the District Three Victor. No one expected her to win, but she still came out of it alive. Who knows, we could probably give it a good shot if we were ever forced to be in the Games."

"Yeah." Cyrix laughs at intolerably loud volume, and I quickly scribble 'SHUT UP' as well as several swears onto a sheet of paper and pass it over to her. "Oh?" She smirks, ripping the paper off of it's pad and reading it as quickly as she could, "Oh Jhoker, you charmer you!"

Asfalt grins savagely as she lets the book rest on her lap, regarding me with cold eyes, "Well he's not trying to impress you is he?" Asfalt grins, staring pointedly at Sculptor, who's still resting on my shoulder, "Are you Toungless. Really I don't even know why they invited the District boy here anyway. You don't belong here District boy. You belong in the Bloodbath." She smiles, leaning back and going back to her book, squinting to read it in the thining light, she reaches up and clicks on a light behind her. Cyrix gives a nervous laugh, somewhat taken aback by the ferocity of the other girl's attack. I'm stunned myself. Personally I was more annoyed by Cyrix, but that Asfalt girl is just viscious. I never would have expected it, since she spends all her time with her face buried in a book. That outburst actually sort of terrified me. I lean back as Cyrix hitches her legs up, curling into a ball and quickly falling asleep. The position makes her look even more snake like than usual.

I sigh, writing as many profanities down as possible on a sheet of paper. I keep trying to get Asfalt's attention, so that I can show her what I think of her, but she just ignores me, continuing to read in the darkness. Really there's no way I can come back to her barrage of insults. What am I going to say? Nothing! Nothing, because I can't even speak. I look down, spotting something moving on her ankle in the darkness. It takes me a moment to realise what it is. A tattoo. A moving rose, growing and pulsing like some disgusting cancer, some horrifying parasite crawling across her leg, the initials AB scratched upon it in a dark sash of gold. I assume it would be pretty, if it weren't for the person it has been branded on. I guess the same is true of my check gloves. I look down at the tiny black and white boxes that cover my arms. Sure they'd look good on a girl, but I ain't a girl. Bloody bossman should have given them to Ezzy, not me. Avox 17 would have looked simply stunning with checkered arms, but Avox 19? Me? I find them horrible. They make me look like some guy who's trying to look like a girl. It really is thick giving a guy alterations that look so girly, but if Claudius Templesmith can live with neon pink hair, I guess I can live with silly pixel sleeves. It's only until I get my freedom and can pay to have them surgically removed after all.

I lean back, no longer caring that Sculptor is, unknowingly of course, resting his head on my shoulder. I'll let those two obnoxious chicks over on the far side of the limo think what they want about me. I don't give a damn. Personally, if I had the choice of being stranded on an island with any of the people in this God damn limo, I'd choose Master Fitch. At least he never calls me 'Toungless'.

Seriously Toungless?

If we were in the Games I'd make sure that she was toungless before th Bloodbath was over.

Hallan Seifross, age 16 (D11 Male)

There is no way in hell I'll go back there in a box. I will survive. I will fight and I will win. I can't die. I just can't. I refuse to end my life before I'm even a legal adult!

I. Will. Survive.

My room is sparse. Anything that can be written on has been wrenched from the wall and crammed onto my desk. Posters, pages from magazines, bits of white bead sheet. All of it has been pulled from where it once lay and scattered into my writing space. I may not be the most intelligent guy to ever have lived, and I may not have taken that much interest in the Hunger Games before but even I know that, when confronted with a life and death problem, you start making plans.

So that's exactly what I'm doing as the sun goes down as Allina and Minty settle themselves into their comfy beds. I'm busy scheming.

What can I expect? Well, first off, there's Mutts. There's bound to be Mutts. I scribble down a quick drawing. Can't write 'cos no one ever taught me, so there's no real way I can put my thoughts down other than pictures. I draw a picture of a dog with a question mark over it. There's really only one way to avoid mutts and that's to run so, if I am unfortunate enough to meet a Mutt, that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Now, onto allies. Do I really want them? Well the answers obviously yes. I'm not going to win these Games without someone backing me up. While going for the Careers alliance would be nice, I think it would probably just slow me down. It's far better to look for the losers, the people who aren't really going anywhere and stick with them. Then you have the number advantage and your not the weak link, so no one's going to target you. I scribble a few stick figures down and put a question mark over them. I need to start picking my allies.

"Good evening Mr Seifross." A voice sounds from behind me, causing me to jump, "Planning are we?"

I spin aroung in my chair, looking around frantically and spotting the huge, skeletal form of Cyrian Delfont in my doorway. I turn, trying to cover the papers but before I can he has already plucked them from my hands and is holding them up, inspecting them.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" Cyrian bends left, as though listening to something and then breaks into muttering, "Yes I know. Poor little Allina's all tuckered out. Minty too? Shame. She was fun, thought she could last the night. Hm? Yeah sure." He turns to me, inspecting the paper in front of him. "You know Seifross, planning's exactly what I did when I was on the train. Stick figure eh? You know those ain't words?" He laughs a loud, creaking laugh, "Doesn't matter kid. I couldn't write at your age either." I nod slowly as the man wanders over to my bed and falls back onto it, kicking up his feet, "So Seifross, you wanna be it?"

"It?" I mumble. I'm not good with new people, especially not creepy murderers and this guy's about as creepy as you get.

"My friend." Cyrian grins, "I got so many friends, but I think you could probably be my best buddy! Real special pals you and me."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because, unlike Miss Allina out there," He points out of the room with his thumb, "You can stay awake a night. Besides, you remind me of me. You're a planner. A trapper too I dare say. Just like me." He gives a giggle, inspecting another piece of paper as he does so, "An alliance? Now we can't have that can we? No we can't."

"Why not?" I ask, slightly taken aback.

"Seifross," He grins, screwing up the paper and flinging it directly at my head, "I thought you'd know! Alliances are for wusses kid. Only guy you need on your side is me."

"You?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Cyrian says, "Proper Victor you got here, one of District Eleven's best and brightest or whatever. Me, Dartagnian and Raincaller we're the best shot you got. And, unlike them, I'm under forty. Ain't I?"

"I..." I open my mouth to say something but, before I can, the massive man interrupts me.

"And, unlike them, I didn't win by luck, now did I?" I don't know. I never saw his Games. I mean to say so but, before I can, he cuts me off again, "And, unlike them, I'm here ain't I? And we're buddies!"

"I guess so." I finally manage to say, although I'm pretty sure I don't sound at all convinced.

"Damn right we are!" Cyrian grins, before bending his head left again and pausing, "Yeah, yeah, sure. And if you want it to stay that way, Seifross, then no alliances. Except with little Allina, I'll go with that OK, but only cos they think I should."

"Who's they?" I say, starting to get really, really confused by Cyrian at this point.

"My friends." Cyrian shrugs, "Anyway. You got a buddy on the inside, and that's real useful for you. Just you remember that. No alliances, no stupid stunts and we'll stay buddies. And believe me. You really want me to be your buddy."

He gets to his feet and we stare, awkwardly, at each other for the next few minutes. I can't tell, but I get the distinct impression that Cyrian is laughing at me. There's something in his eyes that sparkles. Something inhuman. I feel like saying something, but then Cyrian claps his hands together, turning and stepping towards the door, a small smile still pulling at his lips.

"You'll like the Arena." Cyrian winks at me as he steps out of my room, "I made a lot of friends there. A lot of good friends. And now they won't leave me alone."

I shake my head as I sit there, alone with my thoughts. It's not a good idea to get on the wrong side of your mentor, so I guess I only have one ally, Allina. That only leaves traps, which, I think, is exactly what Cyrian wants me to do.

I continue my planning, scribbling something down ever so often, until I drift off to sleep where I sit.

Question of the Day: If you had the choice between an alliance, the Careers or the help of a Victor, which would you chose?