IT'S THE LAST REAPING! Here are the final four tributes! I hope you like the reapings and the final mentors! Thanks to PenMagic, Storm0Wolf, goldie031 and sea hunny for these tributes!

There is also a poll that is now on my profile. Please go and vote for which tributes you want to be killed in the bloodbath...the tributes who have been submitted as created bloodbaths are not in the poll. Please vote as it depends on who will stay and who will not make it past the bloodbath!

I will try and post the next few chapters soon! I won't be doing all the POVs of all the tributes for each of the things that happens! I hope you like the chapter!

County 19 reapings

Harry Field (18)

The county sweeps out before me and if I reach my hand out, I can touch the edge without moving an inch. That is how it should be, perfect and all in my grasp. Except this isn't some stupid fairy-tale where everyone's dreams come true and we all live happily ever after. This is a world where people have to work to earn their keep and it is down to the lowly people to provide for those who deserve not to work, like me. I have always had a top position in my area and my father being made head Peacekeeper automatically puts me above the rest. I am still debating as to whether to go to the reapings; do I really need to grace these peasants with my presence? How likely is it that I will be reaped? I don't know how many Capitol boys and girls there are in the county, I am far too posh and particular for normal school and always have been. I have been home educated since the age of 5 and there is no need for people to have to be with me, they do not deserve the joy of being in my presence, they do not deserve it the filthy scum.

Our house is at the bottom of the hill which we naturally own and we are conveniently located right by the town square. It is unnecessary to have to walk any further than 200m to get to anywhere of importance. Anywhere outside of that zone is unnecessary and unimportant. I take a swig of the beer in my hand and chuck it behind me, down the other side of the slope to the peasants who live there. The hill isn't that high and it isn't a long walk before I walk through the front door and up to my bedroom where, as I expected, my navy blue tuxedo is laid out perfectly for me. I strip off my current clothing, chucking them away and putting on the clothes, feeling the soft new cotton against my skin and I am momentarily satisfied.

Without needing or bothering to say any form of greeting to my parents, I walk out of the house, turn the corner and go into the town square. I do not understand why I have to sign in, everyone knows who I am. But I force myself to remember that there are some people who just don't understand and I have to stoop to their level sometimes, it is truly sad.

I watch as Peeta and Katniss come out, their faces almost bored. Only four more children going to die, certainly not me, and then this whole thing will be over. "Harry Field."

What are they talking about? Why have I been chosen? I don't need to be playing their stupid games, I am Harry Field. I can see Edgar, my little 12 year old brother, staring at me from the back with big wide eyes and I cannot protest for him. I solidly make my way up to the stage, knowing that I have to have my head up and make the best of it all.

Nobie Phlour (13)

Some poet in a country called England, years and years ago, wrote a poem that I think would sum up my thoughts if I was reaped. He wrote: If I should die, think only this of me. That there is a corner of some foreign field that is forever England. (A/N: I do not own the poem, which one is it by whom?)

I know that if I am reaped today, the chances of my survival are very little. I don't like fighting; I hate it and try to avoid it at all costs. If I am reaped today, that will not change, nothing will change my beliefs. If I am destined to die, I am destined to die and I cannot change that.

I am already at the town square, well not quite there exactly. I sit by the side of the road, watching as all the people go past me. There is a mixture of emotions. One boy who looks like the gang who bully me, stalks past me in a pristine navy blue suit, looking straight ahead and not talking to everyone. There are groups of friends, clutching hands and looking fearfully around at everyone. It is the same with the families, mothers and fathers clutching at their sons or daughters hands, especially prominent in the boys and girls around my age and the year below me. Nobody likes to think that a 12 year old would be put into these games and yet, according to my count, there are 7 of them and there are 8 boys and girls who are my age in the games. If that accounts for 1/5th of the boys and girls in the games, that doesn't get the odds very much in my favour. I just hope that if I am reaped, my suffering will not last long and I will die quickly and painlessly, that is my biggest fear. I do not want to die slowly and suffer; I suppose that many people wish for that.

The crowd is thinning now and so I join them. I don't like being in big crowds and it is the back of one which I always am a part of if I am required to be in a large group as I am now. I can almost smell the fear of some people. My eyes keep darting around; looking for my attackers or my sister, the latter would bring me much more comfort. Tromi is 16 and one of the few people who I feel comfortable around and talking to. I'm not very good at talking to people, especially girls, but Tromi is different. She understands and defends me and I like that about her.

I am in no such luck as I go and join the 13 year old male section. The first reaping takes place very soon after and the penultimate boy in the competition is the arrogant 18 year old in the navy suit I saw. He looks angry and half as if he is going to protest but decides against it.

"Nobie Phlour."

As I said, I guess the odds weren't really in my favour. My legs and head aren't obeying my thoughts and before I know it, my head hits the ground.

Kit Kat (14)

Yet again, it is not oil but chocolate that coats my fingers once again. The room that I work in is incredible, the machinery is so intricately detailed and the mechanisms are just so well designed. I love machinery and especially what they do. I reckon I have one of the best jobs in the county. As the county that predominantly produces sugar and all things sugary, I naturally am a junior worker in the local candy factory. In fact, that is what my family business is. My parents and my grandparents and all my ancestors have worked in the business, even in the Capitol. Apparently I had an ancestor who used to live in a different country from Panem and he ran a candy factory, his name was Willy Wonka. He was really popular and created sweets that we now manufacture over here, like Nerds which are my favourite by far.

My job is simple, checking the packaging. All the packaging is done by machines of course, but I have to make sure that the machines have done a good job and that there isn't any faults. Of course, I won't be sacked if there is one that is faulty; my parents can't fire me from a job from a factory that they own. They wouldn't do that. Any packaging that is incorrect or badly done, we have to report. Or at least that is the official rules. Mom and dad never mind if Chloette, my best friend who works with me, and I keep a couple back. They seem to overlook any faulty Nerds packets that don't get logged and we love it. Not that we would dream of taking any perfectly packaged Nerds, we buy those in the shops.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the voice over the intercom comes over and all those in the room look up, "work has finished for the day. Please proceed to the checkout with your work where you will receive your pay and don't forget to attend the reapings that will take place in twenty minutes. Have a good day and to all those under 19, may the odds be ever in your favour."

My mom leaves the last comment as an effort to make us feel better. There are four of us under 19 in this room alone, me, Chloette and my two older siblings Milky Way Kat and Baby Ruth Kat who are 16 and 18 respectively. We leave the building, leaving our books which record all of the faults we have found, down on the desk as we leave. We don't have very much time before we have to leave, although we don't live so far away from the town square. Luckily I have already chosen my outfit and I run up to my room, quickly changing into a beautiful long red dress which I bought the other day and then put on red heels which I know go so well with this outfit. All set, I go downstairs and outside where Chloette is ready, she lives next door, and we wait for Milky Way and Baby Ruth before going down to the town square. We are ever so slightly late and we quickly sign in as the first reaping takes place. Chloette and I slip into the fourteen year old female section as we watch the proceedings.

"Kit Kat."

The world seems to stop and slow down as I feel everyone's eyes looking at me. I am the 75th tribute in these games, how do I feel? I don't even know how I feel. I suppose…I don't really know how to act. I suppose nice is the best way. I smile and slip out, hoping that Chloette isn't the last tribute.

Melena Marcus (17)

The world is a cruel place, full of people who either want to hurt those who they don't understand, or people who just ignore those they don't understand. Then those they don't understand are just left to be in anonymity and feel nothing at least that is what people think. I don't think that. I believe that those who are ignored are the ones who are worth the most, the ones who must be appreciated more because people underestimate them. I see them all the time, at school, on the street, whether they are younger or older than me. How hard it must have been to live in the districts and just be used by the Capitol for their own means.

Even as I walk around the county, I am always on the lookout for people who seem to be on the edge, the ones who are shunned and ignored by society. Some people think that I'm weird because of that. I beg to differ. I spot my next comforter, a young girl who looks about 12 by the side of the road. She sits at the side, looking at the people passing. She looks as if she is dressed for the reapings, like I am. It isn't much of an outfit but it is comfortable. I'm wearing one of my father's old shirts that reach nearly down to my knees, almost completely hiding my grey shorts underneath. I'm also wearing odd flip flops, one black and one white. I reckon that comfort is better than looking good and I want to feel comfortable if I am reaped, before I get sent to my death. Maybe the shirt can be my token, I hope it can be.

"Are you okay?" I sit down beside the girl, making sure I'm not sitting on my shirt.

She looks up at me, her big blue eyes watery and she is clearly ill at ease. "I'm worried." She says nervously, unsure of whether she should be talking to me.

I nod; I can understand her nervous disposition. "Don't worry, we all are. You have much less of a chance than I do, I'm 17."

She smiles slightly. "I guess you have a point, I'm lucky I only have my name in there once."

I stand up. "Shall we go, you can come with me."

She looks up at me. "Really? Won't I make you look stupid? I have a disability which means I walk slowly."

My smile grows wider. "I'll give you a piggy back." Her eyes open even wider as I kneel down and she clambers onto my back. She's as light as a feather and we are soon walking down the street easily. "I'm Melena by the way, Melena Marcus."

"Lottie, Lottie Farlon." She replies, I can hear the happiness in her voice.

We reach the town square and I put her down gingerly as we approach the sign in table. We both sign in and I make sure that she is in a good position in the twelve year old section before heading down to the 17 year old female section. I hope Lottie doesn't get reaped; she doesn't seem the type to be able to survive that long.

"Melena Marcus."

And the reapings are over, and I am the final tribute. How strange it will feel to go to the games. I wonder what it will be like. I tilt my head as I look at the three teenagers on the stage, I wonder what they are like. Will they like me?

Mentor POV

Wait, I was just…what? I look around the room, my yellow shirt feeling sticky from all the sweat I have just been producing. On the opposite side of the room is a girl who is looking just as flustered as I probably look. She looks about 12 but my first instinct is to go to my communications cuff.

"Get me out of here now!" I bark into it.

But there is no response, the thing has gone dead. The girl looks at me as if I am crazy. "What's that?" she points to my commas cuff.

"This?" I re-iterate and she nods. "It lets me communicate with my team. Clearly whoever has brought us here is deliberately stopping me from getting out of here."

"Good afternoon mentors." A voice comes from some sort of system and we both flinch at how loud it is. "You two have been chosen to mentor four boys and girls between the ages of 12 and 18 for four days before they travel to an arena and they have to fight to the death. It is last man or woman standing. You will be required to use your knowledge of fighting and survival to teach your tributes how to survive in the arena. More information will come to you later. Good luck."

The voice cuts out and we are both left standing in complete and utter shock. Train kids how to kill each other? I haven't done that, and I certainly don't know how to train teenagers. They're unpredictable and extremely annoying, been there done that.

"I'll be younger than some of them then." the girl speaks.

"How old are you?" I ask curiously, she doesn't look too old.

"14." She replies nervously. (A/N: her age is never specified so I made it up)

My heart seems to melt, she's so young. I smile gently at her. "Don't worry about it."

She sighs. "I hope that whichever way they managed to do this, they can bring Toto here." She sticks out my hand. "Toto's my dog by the way. I'm Dorothy by the way, Dorothy Gale."

I take it, her hands soft and warm in my coarse ones. "Captain J. T. Kirk, but you can call me James or Captain Kirk, whichever won you like, you're not part of my crew."

"Alright, Captain." She smiles and so do I, I think we'll get along just fine.

So, our final mentors are Dorothy Gale from The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum and Captain James Tiberius Kirk from the TV series and 2009 movie Star Trek. This Captain Kirk is the film version though, so you know...what do you think?