Jazmine Vierra's POV

I watch as every pathetic tribute comes and goes from the training centre, some with smiles growing on their faces, others disappointed by their failure. There was even one kid who stabbed himself in the foot with a knife and was limping away. Some of these people are so pathetic, it's laughable. These games are in the bag. I wish I had chosen a harder year to volunteer for. But this year is a Quarter Quell, which makes up for the lack of decent tributes.

It seems that Scarlett has done better than I thought, for she was smiling as she exited the Centre, something I had never seen her do. However, I know that I will have the highest score, the one that nobody ever gets. I will be one of the few tributes to score a twelve in training.

My finger is tracing the heart scar in my wrist as I continue to wait for my name to be called. I'm not the sort of person who likes to sit around and wait. I'd much rather be out in the arena killing everyone. This whole training and interview thing is a waste of time. I'm already superior in weapons and I can win without sponsors. The capital treatment is just a little thing to draw in more viewers and give everyone a good show. Ha! I'll give them all the show they want.

"Jazmine Vierra." Ugh, I hate that computer voice. All it does is just drone on and on.

I rise from my seat and walk past the other tributes who shudder at my mere presence. I love the feeling of giving fear to everyone around me. It gives me a powerful position and it assures the fact that no one will stand in my way.

I grip the heavy door handles with one hand and fling them open with ease. I hear a gasp from behind me. I sneer, not even looking at the awed tributes. No one, not even the careers, could lift this much so easily. I step into the vast space of the Training Centre and I don't hesitate as I go straight to the battle axe station. I was the only tribute to train there, due to the fact that no one, not even Scarlett, dared to challenge me in any way.

While I reach for the largest and heaviest axe, I switch on the automatons that I am supposed to fight against. I'd prefer it if I was fighting a living person and feeling the rush of killing, but I know that the dummy will have to do. Besides, I'll have plenty of time for killing in the arena.

I weigh the axe in my hand. It is an older, more medieval model with a wooden handle and an iron head. It reminds me of the weapon that I used back home in District Seven. It sort of gives me the home advantage, seeing how I've trained with an almost identical weapon.

Not wasting my time, the automatons rush me, multiple ones at once. The adrenaline is coursing through my veins as I live through the joy and rush of battle. I feel free as a bird flying through the sunny blue sky as I maim, decapitate and stab the robotic foes.

I flip and somersault as I take out dummy after dummy. In a matter of mere moments, the floor is littered with heads, arms, and legs. I kick one of the metal heads as I make my way back to the rack where I hang my battle axe and take a small curtsy, followed by a sneer for good measure.

Take that capital! Take that tributes! I might as well already be wearing that victors crown.

Phan Reska's POV

I'm surrounded by the fellow members of my team, the burden of knowing that I will have to kill all of them weighing down on me. I'm drowning in the pain of befriending these tributes, only to backstab them. But, I will do anything for Natasha's love. Even if it means betrayal.

I'm the first of the group to go into the Training centre, followed by Rye, Natasha, Alex and then Hayden. I will be leading my "friends" to their death and they had absolutely no idea what would be coming. Natasha and I are the only ones who know of our victory plot.

"Makohan Reska," the voice says over the intercom. Natasha gives me a wink and discreetly blows me a kiss.

"Good luck. You can do this," she mouths to me.

I can't disappoint Natasha, I have to appear tough, although that's not going to be a problem. I've been fighting for myself ever since I was abandoned as a baby. I was practically raised fighting on the streets. Violence is a second nature. I'm cunning and sly and can steal anything. It's not like I steal for the fun of it, I just steal whatever I can't afford, which is everything!

As I enter the Training Centre, the first thing I do is glance up at the Gamemakers, who are reclining in their sofas and sipping cocktails. The head Gamemaker, Jayla Mackenzie, is pacing back and forth, her long red hair flowing behind her and her pale skin glowing. She looks down at me and smiles a sinister smile that chills me to the bone. She reminds me of Jazmine, but much more dangerous. It scares me to know that my life rests in the palm of her hand.

Still shaken by Jayla, I pick up a knife and instead of throwing it, like the other tributes do. I switch the automatons to battle mode and grip the knife in a reverse hand grip. As the dummies spin around me, I slash as the air until the knife meets its target and lodges itself in the dummy's chest. I pick up another knife, a larger one and swipe it at the automaton. It glides through the air and swishes right through the dummy's head, knocking it to the ground.

Not wanting to try my luck, I call it good and march out of the Training centre, avoiding eye contact with the infamous Jayla MacKenzie.

Cyra Gleams' POV

Okay, I can do this. I've trained hard and I'm confident in my skills, I'm sure I'll get a decent score. This whole experience at the capital have been so trying. I've watched as the careers fight with ease with all of the weapons. I'm afraid to get in a confrontation with any of them, knowing that I may not live to tell the tale. However, I'll fight until my last breath and I won't let those careers get me down.

"Cyra Gleams," The monotone voice chants with no emotion at all.

All eyes go to me as I rise from my chair. Not many of us are left. Besides me, there are only nine others in the room, including my annoying district partner, Astar. It was a pain to sit next to him as we waited for our names to be called. He is obnoxious and just can't sit still, constantly shifting his massive weight, causing him to bump into me constantly.

It is truly a relief to b away from him. I sort of hope he dies in the bloodbath, even though I know that it's horrible to wish death upon someone. The Hunger Games just make people think and say things that you wouldn't normally do.

I enter the arena and go straight for the spears, knowing that if I waste my time, I won't get a decent score. I lift up a brass spear that glistens in the light of the industrial lamps. Gripping it in one hand, I lunge forward and let the spear fly. It spins through the air, until it finally lodges itself in the dummy's leg.

It's not a fatal shot, but it could cause the victim to fall over, weakening it for a fatal blow or loss of blood.

I select another spear, which is identical to the last. This one lands in the side of the target, which could end up being a fatal shot. For my last chance, I select a silver spear and throw it into the air. The spear makes an impact on its stomach, causing the dummy to fall over. Good enough.

I raise my head high into the air and confidently walk out to the lobby.

Astar Fiew's POV

Finally, it's my turn. I've been waiting for hours, these Gamemakers really have to speed this process up. I could be taking a spa bath or being waited on by the loser avoxes. But NO, I have to be cooped up in the mundane Training Centre lobby waiting for some stupid idiot Gamemakers to judge me and give me a stupid training score that no one pays attention to anyways.

"Astar Fiew," the computer voice sneers in a mocking tone.

With difficulty, I rise from the bench and I could swear that I heard whispers behind me.

"Thank goodness, he's leaving."

I whip around, trying to see where the voice is coming from, but I fail to see who it was. But I will find out, and that person will die.

I'm overwhelmed by the amount of sharp objects in the room. I feel lightheaded and nauseous in fear. Swallowing my fear, I march over to the fire building station station, not daring to look at the knives and swords.

In about ten minutes I have a fire roaring in a pile of twigs and branches. I still have five minutes left.

Just then, I have an idea. Well, a really bad idea, but it could work. I go over to the spears and wince as I pick one up. I can't believe I'm actually going through with this. If I face my fear now, I may not have to in the arena. As I lift the weapon, however, all of my courage drains from me. I drop the weapon and it clatters to the ground.

I flee from the training centre, sweat pouring down my forehead. I'm relieved that I got out of there, but at the same time, I'm disappointed in my cowardly act. I want desperately to go back inside, but I know that it's impossible, for they have already called the next name.

A/N

Only four tributes this time, sorry about that. I've barely had time to write these past few days. I'll do 9, 10 and 11 next and 12 and the score in the chapter afterwards. The interviews will be one or two chapters from a capital POV.

Also, is there anything that you want your tribute to receive in the bloodbath?Please PM me a sponsor form with the item(s). If your tribute dies in the bloodbath or that item interferes with the plot, I will refund the points after the bloodbath. (You can request any item except for bow and arrows, due to the popular demand and the fact that there can only be one bow in the cornucopia) Remember I will only except requests through PM and the request must follow the format in the sponsor chapter (tribute name, item, cost, when you want your tribute to receive it.) You can only request items for the cornucopia.

Who is in an alliance with Justice Blain?

BONUS QUESTION FOR 20 POINTS: what was the reference to Starkid's musical: Twisted?

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Angelofmusic4ever

sorry for the long AN