Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: I'm changing things up a little from what I did last time. We'll still have the train rides, and there will still be three chapters of them – four districts per chapter – but they aren't going in district order. The groupings are based on which districts went well together or had a common theme. First up, we've got Districts One, Eight, Nine, and Eleven.

One last thing I should mention: The tribute I chose for the POV from each district has nothing to do with which tribute I like better or which will make it farther. He/She is simply the tribute who I thought would work better for this particular chapter; that's all.

Train Rides: Part One
Flawless

Alicante Morgan, 17
District One Male

"Do you want to know what went wrong last year?"

Alicante looked up. Jade was leaning back casually on the couch, crunching on an apple as he spoke. Thea sat beside him, listening to his every word like a lost puppy. Of course she wanted to know. She wanted to hear everything Jade had to say.

Slumped comfortably in a chair across from them, Alicante shrugged. Last year's tributes had done pretty well. The girl had made two kills, the boy three. If there was a problem, it was that the girl hadn't had much imagination. She'd made both of her kills by throwing a knife into the tribute's neck. Which was effective, but not very artistic.

Now, the boy – he'd had some talent. He'd killed his ally from Six – the Capitol girl – with her own comb, her district token. The boy from Four had nearly drowned trying to kill him, so he'd taken his time with that one, exactly as the other boy would have done to him if he'd had the chance. And the last one – the girl from Ten – he'd cut her throat, just like the people of her district might have done to a pig or a cow. Alicante planned to do better, of course, but it was hard not to acknowledge what a thirteen-year-old boy had been able to accomplish.

Alicante glanced up at Jade in time to hear his explanation of what had gone wrong. "Neither of them had any allies – not for long, at least. Abstract wanted to go it alone, and nothing I said could convince her otherwise. Angus killed his only ally before the first day was even over. Both of them were alone for the rest of the Games, and both of them might have lasted a bit longer if they'd had someone to watch their back."

Alicante nodded along. It was hard to argue with that. Angus' last kill had been part of a group of three tributes whom he had attacked while they slept. The other two had turned on him before he could take care of them, as well. Abstract had been lying in wait at the mouth of a cave when two tributes had ventured out. Like Angus, she'd killed one, but the second had been too much for her. Either of those encounters might have gone differently if they hadn't been alone.

"So we should have allies," Thea agreed. A little too quickly, Alicante thought. A little too eager to do whatever her mentor said. "Where do we start?"

"Ideally, with each other," Jade suggested. "You're both older, stronger, than most of the others will be. You both volunteered. If I can present you as the foundation of a larger group, it might help me find sponsors – and whatever sponsor gifts I'm able to send would benefit both of you."

It was only a second or two before Thea nodded her agreement. "Okay." Then, realizing she had unintentionally spoken for both of them, she turned to Alicante. "If that's all right with you, at least."

Alicante eyed her for a moment. Maybe she wasn't the ideal partner – she was a bit too eager to please, a bit too slow to question Jade's advice – but, in this case, Jade was probably right. Alicante wanted bodies – living canvases – and the best way to get that was to surround himself with people who wanted the same thing. Thea didn't seem particularly vicious, but she was eager. Excited. That would serve his purpose almost as well. After a moment, he nodded his consent. "Done."

Jade cocked an eyebrow, as if surprised that this part of the conversation had gone so well. He had obviously given the same pitch to last year's tributes, to no avail. "Well, since that's decided, let's watch the other reapings – see which of the other tributes have potential." He flicked a switch, and the screen turned on. "Keep an eye out for other volunteers – they're always important to watch – but don't count the others out, either. We've had a fair share of volunteers in nine years, but only two of us have won."

"Two?" Alicante asked, glancing up at their mentor. He knew Jade was one, but couldn't quite place the other…

"Ivy Asters, District Eleven, Second Hunger Games," Thea rattled off immediately, as if answering a question on a test.

Jade smiled encouragingly. "Spot on. In the last couple years, we've been getting a few more volunteers from One, Two, and Four – myself included – but don't ignore the other districts. Almost all of them have at least one victor."

"Except for Three, Six, Nine, and Twelve," Thea offered, earning a grin from Jade as the tape started to play.

Their own reaping played, and then District Two. "Petrovich," Jade muttered, as if the name sounded familiar, but Alicante's attention was on the boy – a volunteer, tall and muscular, almost deadpan as he announced himself as Matthias Hadrian. "Keep an eye on him," Jade suggested as District Three appeared.

The girl from Three had to be dragged to the stage, but the boy put on a brave face and managed something about not letting his older sibling have all the fun. The tributes from Four were so comically enthusiastic – despite being non-volunteers – that Thea was giggling. "Troublemakers," Jade noted, but whether he meant it as a compliment or a warning, Alicante wasn't sure.

District Five had a volunteer, as well. "Two years in a row," Jade noted, arching an eyebrow. "And two victors in five years. District Five may be onto something."

"Their volunteer didn't win last year," Thea pointed out.

"But her district partner did," Jade noted. "And they were the final two. Don't underestimate this one."

Alicante nodded and turned his attention to District Six, which also had a volunteer – a blind boy who clearly knew both the boy who had been called, and his district partner. Jade was already advising against this one – obviously – but Alicante was admiring his eyes, carefully sewn shut. Impressive work; it would make lovely art…

Alicante practically missed District Seven, but they didn't seem like anything special. District Eight had a volunteer, as well, but he seemed thoroughly confused, thinking he was volunteering for someone named Nicoline. "The girl form Eight last year," Thea realized. "Must be her brother."

"Abstract killed her," Jade pointed out. "Watch out for this one; he doesn't seem like he's out for revenge, but it could be an act."

District Nine was nothing special – the girl was crying, and the boy nearly fainted. Ten had a fourteen-year-old volunteer – replacing her sister – and a boy who couldn't stop laughing. Alicante shook his head. He wouldn't be laughing long.

Eleven looked more promising. The girl was a volunteer – tall, strong, and confident. The boy didn't seem as enthusiastic, but he did look strong. Jade nodded briskly. "These two – either keep an eye on them, or ally with them and keep an even closer eye on them."

Thea nodded obediently as District Twelve passed – a younger girl and a boy who was clearly shaking with terror. "Well, that's all of them," Thea noted, turning to Jade. "What do you think?"

Jade thought for a moment. Then he took another bite out of his apple.

"I think we have options."

Carolina Young, 18
District Eight Female

"Do you want to know what was wrong with last year's tributes?"

Lander lay sprawled out on the couch, legs dangling over the side, staring up at the ceiling. Carolina sat at the table, picking at her food. Shaw sat across from her, scowling at Lander. "There was nothing wrong with last year's tributes," he growled.

Lander tucked his hands behind his head. "Oh, of course not. There's nothing wrong with a tribute admitting to being a rebel and thoroughly cursing the entire Capitol the moment he makes it to the final five. And there's certainly nothing wrong with a tribute whose only kill was already unconscious. But that wasn't their biggest problem – either of them."

Shaw was still glaring; he wasn't going to take the bait. So Carolina decided to take it herself. "What was, then?"

"They both wanted to be heroes," Lander answered simply. "They both wanted to make it through the Games unscathed, with no needless blood on their hands, only killing when they absolutely had to – that sort of thing."

Carolina cocked an eyebrow. "What's wrong with that?"

Lander scoffed. "It's impossible – that's what."

"Just because it's difficult doesn't mean—"

Lander shook his head. "I didn't say 'difficult.' I said 'impossible.'" He eyed her for a moment. "All right – let's hear it."

"Hear what?"

"Your brilliant plan. You obviously have one, so let's hear it – how you're going to make it out of the arena with your precious morals intact."

"I never said—"

Lander cackled a little. "You didn't have to. Nobody smiles at the reaping unless they've already got a bit of a plan. So spill it."

Carolina glanced at Shaw, who shrugged. "I can leave if you'd rather—"

"Discuss tactics alone?" Lander giggled. "Don't bother, Shaw – she's not planning to stab you in the back. That wouldn't be very honorable. Now spit it out, Care."

Carolina flushed. "Only my friends call me Care."

Lander smirked. "Interesting, because I heard you telling Shaw that he could. So are you two friends? Going to fight your way through the arena together? End up in the final two like District Five last year? And then what?"

Carolina stared. It hadn't even crossed her mind to team up with Shaw. Telling him to call her 'Care' had just seemed like the friendly thing to do. "I never said that was my plan," she insisted.

"Then do tell," Lander yawned. "Sometime today, if you don't mind. I've got all the time in the world, but you two – well, that's a different story."

Carolina bit her lip. "Well, I was thinking I would use traps."

Lander closed his eyes. "Oh, joy. Traps. Why?"

Carolina blinked. She had thought it was obvious. "I've never used a weapon before—"

"Have you set a trap before?"

"No, but—"

"What makes you think that'll be any easier?"

"Maybe not easier, but it seemed like the best option for someone—"

"Someone who's a coward?"

"I'm not a coward!"

"Of course not. You'd just rather wait for someone to blunder into your trap than face them in a fair fight – is that it?"

"And you think I'd win a fair fight?"

Lander shrugged. "I don't think you'll win any fight – either of you."

Shaw rose from the table and headed for the door to the next car. "Come on, Care. He's obviously not interested in helping either of us." He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Lander smiled a little. "He's wrong, of course – I do want to help you. But I can't win this for you, and, when it comes down to it, neither of you is going to have what it takes."

Carolina stared for a moment. Got up to follow Shaw. But then something got the better of her. Maybe curiosity, maybe simply the need to have the last word. She sat back down – in a chair across from Lander. "Why not?"

Lander opened his eyes. "Say you do set that trap – let's say it's a net – and let's say a little girl gets caught in it. Thirteen or fourteen, big wide eyes, terrified as can be, thrashing around trying to free herself. What would you do? What would you really do?"

Carolina swallowed hard, trying to picture it. Picturing Nicoline, the little girl from last year – Shaw's little sister. Picturing herself with a knife. Walking up to the girl. Reaching down...

"I … I don't know," Carolina admitted.

Lander shook his head. "I think you do. You'd cut the ropes – your own trap – and tell her to run off while she still could. You'd wait for someone else – someone you wouldn't feel bad about killing. Shaw would do the same; every little tribute in the arena is going to remind him of his sister. And that's exactly what was wrong with last year's tributes."

Carolina clenched her fists. "And you? What would you do?"

Lander shrugged. "There's a reason I'm here, Carolina. A reason I'm still alive. I'd take a knife and cut her throat, or stab her in the chest – or maybe I'd cut her up into a thousand little pieces and feed her to the nearest mutt." He closed his eyes again, hands folded across his chest. "I'm not a hero, Care. And you can't be, either – not if you want to live. You have to kill, and you have to be okay with killing anyone – not just the ones who you think deserve it."

Carolina studied him for a moment. "Are you okay with it – with the ones you killed?"

"Always have been," Lander answered, a little too quickly. "I'm a villain, Care, and that's exactly what you'll have to become if you want to win the Games."

Carolina looked away, fighting back the lump in her throat. She wanted to live. But she didn't know if she could – not if it meant doing what Lander had said. There had to be a better way. A way to win the Games without becoming cold and heartless. And she would find it. She had to. Because there was one thing she knew for sure.

She never wanted to end up like him.

Ardrey Keevan, 18
District Nine Female

"Do you know what District Nine did wrong last year?"

Ardrey looked up from her piece of pie. She, Cormac, and Lenora were seated at a round table stocked with lavish food. Most of the luxurious meal had been filled with small talk – questions about their families, about their lives back in District Nine. She'd learned that Cormac, like herself, was an only child. That his family owned a shop, that he worked there after school. He'd seemed almost embarrassed to admit that he'd never worked in the fields, as she had since she'd been able to walk. He'd had a rather good life, relatively speaking – up until now, of course.

She wasn't sure whether she envied him or pitied him.

Lenora had also told them plenty about herself. She was a mother of three – two boys and a girl – the oldest their age, the youngest seven years old. For the last nine years, she'd made her living off of the Games, wagering a small fortune and, nearly always, correctly predicting the victor. She'd told them, laughing, about the one time she'd been wrong, how surprised she'd been four years ago when Lander had come out on top. Then she'd laughed it off, joking about how she'd won it all back the next year betting on Jade. The obvious choice, she'd admitted with a smile, but sometimes the obvious choice won. She apparently thought that was rather funny.

But now, it seemed, she was ready to get down to business.

"The boy killed his district partner in the bloodbath," Cormac suggested, and Ardrey nodded her agreement. He'd killed her, then gone after the girl from Ten, only to be attacked by her district partner. District Nine had taken last place … and second-last. It would probably be easier to find something they had done right.

Lenora shook her head. "Before that."

"The boy killed his mentor," Ardrey offered.

Lenora winced. Clearly, she was hoping that didn't happen again. But that wasn't what she was looking for, either. "Before that."

Ardrey and Cormac glanced at each other, uncertain. "We never really heard anything about what happened before that," Ardrey shrugged.

Lenora smiled warmly. "Neither did I. But let's speculate a little. What do you think happened? What went wrong? What would prompt Husk to kill his mentor – one of the few people whose job it is to get him out of the arena alive?"

Cormac shrugged. "I guess he had a temper."

Lenora nodded a little. "I'm sure he did. But why her? Why not the escort? Why not his district partner? Why his mentor? What did she do wrong?"

Ardrey perked up. She hadn't expected Lenora to admit that it had been her predecessor, not the tributes under her care, who had erred. "Maybe he didn't think she was doing her best?"

Lenora smiled. "Closer. I'm sure she was doing her best, which was part of the problem – her best wasn't very good. But it's something more personal than that. He didn't think that she cared about them."

They both let that sink in for a moment. "Did she?" Cormac asked at last.

Lenora shrugged. "I'm sure she did, in her own way. But she probably didn't show it very well. Myself, on the other hand – I made a point of asking about you, about your lives, and sharing some of my own, before asking for your trust in the arena."

Ardrey clenched her fists. "So it's an act?" She'd had enough of people pretending to care about her. Enough of people who acted like her friends until she really needed them. If her mentor was going to do the same thing, maybe Husk had the right idea…

Lenora shook her head. "Not an act. A necessity. I need to care about you, and you need to believe that, or else nothing I say or do will matter. We need to trust each other – we three – if one of you is going to make it out alive. And, I'm sorry to say, it can only be one of you."

Ardrey cringed. She knew that, of course, but she had hoped that Lenora wouldn't bring it up so soon. Cormac, too, looked away, uncomfortable.

Lenora nodded. "I am sorry – truly. But you can't both win. You have to know that, and you have to act like you know it. But—" She turned to Cormac. "If you can't win – if it's just fate that you die in that arena – what would be the next best thing? Who would you want to win in your place, Cormac, if you can't?"

Cormac didn't hesitate. He looked up at Ardrey, confident, calm. "You. I'd want it to be you, if it can't be me."

Lenora smiled a little. "And you, Ardrey? If you can't win, what would you want? What would be best for your family, your friends, your district, if you can't be the one to make it home?"

Ardrey hesitated. She didn't want to think about it. She wanted it to be her. But, at the same time, she knew what Lenora wanted to hear. "Cormac," she agreed. "If it can't be me … then it should be you. It should be someone from District Nine, someone who will win food and supplies for our district, someone who can help the tributes in the future." But she could do that just as well as Cormac could, if not better. It shouldn't be him. It should be her…

But her speech was enough to satisfy Lenora. "That's what I hoped to hear. I don't want to be doing this very long, you know. I want one of you to take my place, and, right now, I'd rather not know which of you it's going to be." She took a bite of her pie. "Do you remember the Games last year? The final two?"

Cormac nodded. "District Five. Both of them. They teamed up at the end to take on the girl from Four."

Lenora smiled. "Everyone remembers the finale. But what happened before that is even more important. The girl – Brie – she had a chance to kill Harakuise, and she didn't take it. She knew that they would have a better chance together. That's what you have – a better chance, if you team up. Help each other. Keep telling yourselves that, if it's not going to be you, then it'll be him. It'll be her."

Cormac nodded. But Ardrey slowly got up from the table and made her way to the next car, where she collapsed onto the bed. After a moment, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Ardrey looked up, surprised, to see that her mentor had followed her. "You don't like my idea," she observed.

Ardrey shook her head. "It's fine. I'm fine with teaming up with him, working together. It's just … I don't want it to be him. I want it to be me. And if it came down to us, in the final three or four, and I had the chance that Brie had … I'm not sure what I'd do. I might kill him." She looked away. "Working with him, pretending to be his friend when I might kill him later – does that make me a bad person?" Did it make her exactly like her friends?

Lenora took a seat next to her on the bed and put an arm around Ardrey's shoulders. Ardrey looked up into her mentor's eyes. A mother's eyes. A mother who wanted one of her children to come home. A mother who had decided which of them had the better chance.

"No. It makes you a victor."

Dallas Roy, 18
District Eleven Male

"Do you want to know what last year's tributes did wrong?"

Sitting next to Binix on the couch, dallas shook his head. "They got killed."

Ivy, seated in a chair across from them, looked up in surprise. Clearly, she hadn't expected such a quick answer to her question, especially from the boy who had nearly cried at the reaping. That was how the other two saw him, and it was Dallas' fault.

He would have to fix that.

"Fair enough," Ivy agreed, "but why did they get killed? What did they do wrong?"

"Nothing," Binix offered.

"Nothing?" Ivy asked skeptically.

"Exactly," Binix nodded. "They did nothing. A whole lot of nothing."

Ivy leaned back a little, eyeing Binix, slightly impressed. "Explain."

"In theory, they had a good plan. They established themselves as part of a large group – big enough for protection, but not big enough to cause enough tension for them to turn on each other. They got to the Cornucopia, got their weapons … and then did nothing. They sat there and waited for trouble to come to them. When they did spread out into the arena, it was just to explore … not to kill. Not to hunt."

Ivy arched an eyebrow. "And you think you're a hunter." dallas couldn't quite tell if it was a statement or a question.

dallas saw his chance. "Well, we're certainly not prey," he shot back. "Neither of us is going down without a fight."

The first hint of a smile crossed Ivy's face. "No, I don't suppose you are – but, unfortunately, one of you is going to go down, in the end. So you should decide now, before we dive into strategy too much – are you going to be working together, or should I discuss this with you individually?"

Binix and dallas exchanged a look, and, for the first time, he saw hesitation in her eyes. She hadn't expected this question to be asked quite so soon. But dallas was ready. "I'm willing to work together," he offered, extending his hand. Then, echoing Binix's words at the reaping, he added, "May the best tribute win."

Binix studied him for a moment, but then shook his hand. "Agreed."

Ivy nodded. "Good. But I wouldn't advise taking on the entire arena by yourselves. The tributes last year had the right idea; you could use some allies. Let's take a look at the reapings. Keep an eye out for anyone who looks like they've used a weapon – or something similar, like an axe or a sickle."

dallas nodded. "Okay, but I don't think we should just look for allies. I think we should also keep an eye out for easy prey. If we can kill a few tributes early on, it'll get the audience's attention. Then we'll just have to keep it."

Ivy blinked. "I agree. But, remember, don't rely too much on the impression that tributes give at the reaping. It can be rather … deceptive."

dallas smirked a little; she was obviously referring to him. Binix nodded her agreement, and the three of them turned their attention to the screen.

They watched the reapings in silence. By the time they were through, dallas had identified nine potential allies and six easy targets. The others didn't leave much of an impression one way or the other. "All right," Ivy nodded. "First impressions. Go."

Binix started them off. "I like District One. Two volunteers, older, stronger. And their victor three years ago used a similar strategy."

Ivy nodded. "Jade. If I know him, he's having the exact same conversation with his tributes as we speak. From the look of them, the girl's had training, but so have you, so—"

"No, I haven't," Binix interrupted. Surprise registered on Ivy's face, and dallas chuckled a little. Binix had clearly been her favorite at the start of their train ride, but now…

"You haven't," Ivy repeated. "I just assumed since you planned to volunteer—"

"My reasons for volunteering are none of your business," Binix spat.

"I'm your mentor. Everything's my business!" Ivy shot back. "Any more secrets you want to spill – either of you?"

dallas smirked. "I have two personalities," he offered.

"That's not funny," Ivy growled.

"No, I'm not kidding," dallas shrugged. He hadn't been planning to tell anyone, but why not? "The boy you saw at the reaping – that's Dallas."

"And who are you?" Binix asked, just as surprised as Ivy.

"I'm dallas," dallas shrugged, before realizing they only sounded different inside his head. He hesitated. He'd never had the need to set himself apart from his other personality before, but this was going to get confusing fast if he didn't come up with something else. He thought for a moment. "Call me Roy."

Ivy nodded, still a bit skeptical. "All right, Roy. And can we expect you to be … staying with us?"

Roy shrugged. "I don't have a whole lot of control over which of me is … here."

Ivy sighed. "Well, thank you for telling me; that clears up a lot. Now, about District One."

"I like them, too," Roy nodded. "And if Binix could fool you into thinking she's had training, she might be able to fool them, too, as long as she sticks with weapons that are close to what she knows. Any good with a sickle, Binix?"

"Better than you, I'd wager," Binix growled. "No matter which one of you it is."

Ivy chuckled a little. "All right, then. District One, for sure, if they'll have us. Who else?"

"The boys from Two and Five," Binix suggested. "They look strong, and they're both volunteers."

"I like District Four," Roy added. "Both of them. They weren't volunteers, but they've got energy. They definitely won't want to sit around and wait for things to happen."

"Maybe the boy from Seven," Binix offered. "Not the strongest, but he's probably used an axe, and it's good to have someone who would know a bit about forests – what's safe to eat, how to start a fire."

Roy nodded. "What about District Nine?"

Binix scoffed. "What about them? The girl was crying, and the boy almost fainted."

Roy shrugged. "Exactly. They've got a lot to prove. A lot of respect to win back. We can use that."

Binix did some quick counting. "That's eleven, including us. That's almost half the tributes. Too many."

Ivy nodded. "Agreed. Ideally, I don't think your group should be more than six or seven; any more will cause tension too quickly."

Roy turned to Ivy. "So what do you think?"

Ivy thought for a moment. Then she smiled a little.

"I think we have options."

"Creation is an act of sheer will. Next time it'll be flawless."