"I'll give you one night only

For your eyes only

If entertainment's what's you want

Then, honey, I'm the best..."

~One Night Only (The Struts)

o0o

Halliday Frost (District 1 Tribute) 18

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you!" Tiberius Hearthstone takes the stage with ease, strutting out and into the spotlight. The applause slowly quiets, and Tiberius does a little bow, a huge grin on his face. "Thank you for being here tonight on the eve of the 26th annual Hunger Games!" The crowd erupts into screams and shouts, clapping wildly. Disgusting. "26 years," Tiberius continues. "Can you believe it's been over a quarter of a century?" A quarter of a century. 26 years. 26 years of people just like me being shipped off to their deaths for sport. He rambles on about how much of an 'honor it is to be here' and how 'grateful he is to still have this job' blah blah blah. Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. This is a place where people live stream teenagers murdering each other for sport. If he's grateful, then I'm a giraffe.

I shift from foot to foot, struggling to breathe. This dress is so tight, who even had this idiotic idea was this anyway?

"In less than 18 hours, the 26th Hunger Games will be underway!" Tiberius declares, spreading his arms wide. "Isn't that exciting?!"

"Exciting as mud," Thames mutters from behind me, and I can't help but smile. Just a tiny bit. Dressed in black combat boots, which seem to have quickly become his signature wear in the Capitol, he's also wearing black greaves inlaid with golden vines with spiraling leaves are wrapped around his forearms. A crisp black shirt, decorated with some sort of strange, runic design is nearly obscured by the heavy cloak made of a dark red cloak draped around his shoulders that's lined with what appears to be snow leopard fur. He looks like a king.

"Tonight, we have the opportunity to meet each of our Tributes face-to-face, ladies and gentlemen, isn't that fabulous?"

"Dear God," Aegis grumbles, two people back. "These people are bizarre. Who even says that?"

"Here here," Athena agrees.

Tiberius says something that has the hundreds of Capitol people in the audience on their feet and cheering madly once again. There are hundreds of people here, judging me, analyzing me, but there are so many people who will be watching him. This is a mandatory live broadcast- every eye in Panem will be watching me tonight. Maximus will be watching.

Something curls low in my gut, heavy, and making me bite my lip. My heart races, threatening to jack-knife its way out of my chest. No, calm down, get yourself under control.

"Starting off this lovely evening is a beautiful young woman from District 1!" Me. That's me they're talking about. "And her name is Halliday. With a remarkable 10 in training, please join me in welcoming Halliday Frost!"

Now. Now is my time to shine. I take a deep breath, steeling my nerves, and walk out onto the stage.

The lights are blinding, and it's a herculean effort to keep my eyes open as I smile for the cameras, for the Capitol, and shake Tiberius's hand.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Halliday Frost! How are you liking it so far?"

It's terrible, I hate it, and if you don't stop looking at me like that in the next three seconds, I will put this stiletto through your eye. "It's absolutely gorgeous," is what I say instead. "I've never seen anything quite like this place!"

Tiberius lets out another one of those fake, fake laughs, and gestures for us to have a seat. Folding myself into the chair, I arrange the skirts of the dress to pool around my feet, the fabric settling easily. The bodice is a beautiful, solid white, almost like the dress I had worn on my Reaping day. This is much, much nicer though, and even though District 1 is about luxury, this is by far the nicest thing I've worn in what is probably my entire life. It might be the nicest thing I wear in my entire life. No. I cannot think about that. Not now. I am light, I am beauty, I am grace. The dress I'm wearing is playing on my last name- Frost. Crafted of tiny blue gems so pale they're almost white, clinging to every curve and hollow before draping to the floor. Sheer silk panels flow from my back shoulders, in lieu of a veil or a cape. The long sleeves are tight, the neckline grazing the collarbone, the modesty of it undone by how it fits me like a glove. My hair is swept up off my face with two combs of silver and diamond but left to drape down my back. I'm honestly surprised my prep team managed to straighten that mess and get it to lie flat.

"I hear you are unrivaled in your skill with a knife…" Tiberius begins. Oh, wonderful. Straight to the point, isn't it. Yes, let's talk about how I'm going to murder everyone else in line backstage, shall we?

I keep the smile on my face, but let the edges sharpen just a little bit. A little more predator to show through. "I wouldn't call myself unrivaled, Tiberius, but they are my weapon of choice."

He laughs again, and I fight down the bile rising in the back of my throat. The lights are hot, and despite the sheerness and light material of the dress, I'm still burning up. Only three minutes, Three minutes. "Such depreciation, Miss Frost, stop that! You earned a 10 in training, and that speaks for itself!"

I force a laugh, wave a hand through the air. "You're too kind, Tiberius. And please, call me Halliday."

"Halliday, then," he agrees. Leaning forward, like he's about to tell me some huge secret, he asks, "So, Halliday. Do you feel like you are well-prepared for these Games?"

Of course, I don't. You're asking me if I'm ready to drive one of my knives into the heart of a 12-year-old, what do you take me for? "I do, Tiberius. I feel very, very prepared." Lie. Azer had told me to lie. Think of the most interesting lies you can imagine… and then make them plausible. "I'm afraid I can't say the same about some of the others…" I slide my gaze towards the side of the stage where the rest of the Tributes are waiting, "But my allies and I are ready for anything you can throw at us. Although I have no qualms about leaving them to the mutts the stakes get too high." "I plan to win these Games, and I'm not going to let anything get in my way."

"I have no doubt that you will," Tiberius confides. "And how do you plan to win these Games, exactly?" If it were anyone else, the question might have sounded passive-aggressive, but Tiberius just makes it a genuine statement, from one friend to another. He's good. I'll give him that much.

"Well," I start. "You hear it all the time- that you can't hurt the ones that you love. If everyone loves me, then they can't hurt me. And if they can't hurt me…" I shrug, raising my eyebrows in a what can you do? look. "Then I win."

o0o

Aegis Harlow (18) District 2 Tribute

Halliday's interview goes swimmingly. Well, there goes any hope of impressing the Capitol. She played everyone- the audience, Tiberius, maybe even the Gamemakers. She's off the stage in a heartbeat, almost running once she passes the screens that will shield her from the public view. She blows past us in a gale of dark hair and white fabric and is gone before any of us have a chance to say anything. Athena raises an eyebrow, but Thames shakes his head.

"Leave her be," he murmurs. "She was a mess before we came down here, but she pulled herself together for the most part. Let her go."

"Are you sure?" Athena hesitantly asks, making to step out of line.

"Don't," Thames starts, but he's interrupted by Tiberius announcing his name from the stage. Thames winces, tugging his fur-lined cloak tighter around himself before giving us a mocking two-finger salute and heading onstage.

I want to pay attention to him- he's earned it, all innuendos intended- but I'm distracted by Athena. She's ducking out of line, presumably to go find Halliday. "Athena," I hiss. My District partner glances back, brow creased.

"Aegis, I've gotta make sure she's okay."

"You have three minutes until you're wanted on that stage," I argue. "You're not going to make it either way. Like Thames said, she'll be fine. Give her some credit. She's stronger than you think she is."

"And how would you know?" Athena's left leg is twitching, bouncing restlessly against the floor. "I've been around her more than you have been."

"Just… let it go, Athena. She wouldn't appreciate you barging in on her and possibly seeing her like that."

Athena opens her mouth, incredulity spreading across her features. "Says the one who threw a massive temper tantrum a few days ago and-"

I force the wince down and strain to keep my voice even. "And I didn't want anyone to see me like that, Athena, don't you understand? It's humiliating to let someone else in when you're at your lowest points. You may be able to talk about your struggles and problems with someone you trust, but actually letting them in like that… it's hard, Athena. Come on."

Her nostrils flare. "Aegis-"

"Good girl," I say over her. It's a dick move, I know. But if she runs off and doesn't show up right on cue… it could cause all sorts of problems.

Resolutely ignoring the ferocious glare that I'm sure is aimed at me, I turn back to the screens. Just in time to catch the tail end of Thames' interview.

"-and how do you plan to do that?" Unless I'm simply imagining, it's a genuine note of intrigue in his voice as he asks, "I don't think I've ever met a Career who wasn't chewing at the bit to spill some blood."

This elicits a low laugh from the golden-eyed boy. "None of us were bred for bloodshed, Tiberius. We simply find ways to condone or forget. We do not get to play god and decide who lives and who dies." The Master of Ceremonies blinks. All the surprise he will allow himself to show. "Death is like the wind," Thames muses as he stands, glancing over his shoulder as he walks off the stage, ignoring Tiberius's extended hand. "It blows where it wants to blow." As he goes, I wonder if anyone else noticed the tremor in his hands, the way his voice almost cracked on the last two words. If anyone noticed the way his eyes were darting around the room, looking, searching for a way out.

Once he's beyond the screens, Thames jogs over to us. I hold an arm open and he wraps himself around me, burying his face in my shoulder. "They were all staring at me," he whispers. "They were all staring at me, Age, and-"

The Gorgon doesn't know what to do with feelings. The monster I've kept caged for 18 years doesn't know how to comfort. But now, with that dark, blood-soaked creature locked in its cage, maybe I can help him.

Words. Words, I need to talk to him, to offer reassurance. Come on, Aegis. Think! But nothing comes. I'm lost, almost as helpless as the boy quivering in my arms, and all I can do is stroke my fingers through his hair. Run a soothing hand along his back, and offer him the only solace I can. The only consolation I know how to give.

I hold him close, resolutely ignoring the snickers of the other Tributes behind us. Angle my body like a shield, protecting him as best I can from the rest of the world. My father once read me the story of gods and goddesses, mythology older than anyone can remember. He told me that I was named after an ancient shield, carried by the king of the gods, whose name was Zeus. If I am the shield, then Thames is the king, and I will protect him at all costs.

Athena's interview passes in a blur, the crowd giving up a massive round of applause as she comes off the stage, head still high and a huge grin on her face. Then it's my turn, and I can hear Tiberius getting the crowd riled up for me. I doubt I'd have any skin left on my hands for how hard they're clapping tonight. And I'm only the fourth one out. Untangling myself from where Thames has wrapped himself around me like an octopus is a feat of agility in and of itself. "I need to go now," I say gently. "I'll see you in a few minutes, okay? Go find somewhere quiet. I'll find you there."

He blinks up at me, slowly, before nodding. "Okay, Aegis." A small, familiar spark of mischief glints in his eyes as he steps away. "Give them hell," he adds, a small quirk to his lips, before slipping away down the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from District 2, Aegis Harlow!" Tiberius proclaims, and I close my eyes for a moment, steady my breathing. Give them hell. With that thought firmly in mind, I straighten my back, take a deep breath, and walk out to face the Capitol.

o0o

Lauren Silver (18) District 3 Tribute

The boy onstage is quickly winning over the audience, snarky remarks and dark humor never failing to elicit a laugh from both interviewer and crowd. I've gotta do better. The better part of today had been spent in either my room or the bathroom, where my prep team had been a flurry of movement around me. Tamlin had taken charge easily and had honestly done most of the work, applying silver eyeshadow, a sweep of coal beside each eye, a clear, shimmering lip gloss. Slipping pieces of jewelry onto my neck, my fingers, even sliding a band of braided silver onto my ankle. Oh, yes. Everything I'm wearing is silver. The rings, the necklace, the slinky metallic dress… everything is some shade of the lustrous grey color. A play on my last name, perhaps, like what they did with the Career girl of 1, who stunned everyone with her gorgeous ensemble.

On-screen, Aegis ducks his head, successfully hiding the smug smile that flits across his face. "A gentleman never tells," he says coyly, and Tiberius erupts into over-exaggerated laughter. Fake. This is so horribly fake. How can no one realize what's going on? Everything here is so unbearably expensive as if they're trying to prove that they're better than us, that they have more money, more power, more influence, more everything. It's just one big flex party, and it's revolting.

Still grinning, the Master of Ceremonies stands, offering Aegis a hand. He accepts it, rising to his feet in an easy, graceful motion. "I wish you all the best, Aegis Harlow," Tiberius says, shaking the boy's hand vigorously.

"And I, you," Aegis answers smoothly. He gives the Capitol a roughish wink as he lets go of Tiberius's hand, dipping into a small bow before saying, "I hope you all like the show I'm about to give you."

A show. He couldn't have been more accurate. A rigged show, more like, because the Gamemakers are all in control. Ultimately, we are at their mercy. They judge us and decide who they will allow to gain Sponsors, and therefore help from the outside world. They sit in a room and have the ability to kill any of us with the press of a button. Thames had said that we do not get to play god and decide who dies and who doesn't. And he's right. We don't. The Gamemakers do. And all I find myself wanting is for them to be brought to justice, to be cast down from their high and mighty throne. This isn't right. It's gruesome, really. Valkyrie has been Head Gamemaker for how many years now? Longer than I can remember. All I know that she is the third Head Gamemaker, and that neither of her predecessors lasted long in the position. That means she must have been here for the last six years at least… and that means she's indirectly responsible for at least 138 deaths. 138.

"Our next young lady, first out of the gate for District 3, it's Lauren Silver!" Tiberius announces from the stage. Crap. I gotta go. I'd been so engrossed in the horror of my most recent realization that I hadn't even noticed Aegis return to the group.

The walk out onstage is possibly the hardest thing I've done in the past few years. The knowledge that I'm about to put myself on display for the Capitol, sit still, smile, act like the good little lapdog they want me to be, is almost enough to make my steps falter. Almost. But not quite. It will take a lot more than a kill count and a performance to break me. It's time to move.

"Miss Silver!" Tiberius exclaims as I stride out onto the stage. "You certainly do live up to your name!"

"Thank you, Mr. Hearthstone!" I chirp back. Be yourself, Tamlin had told me, as he gently nudged me towards the elevators. You're kind, smart, beautiful- you'll have no problem garnering Sponsors. But now that I'm up here, standing in front of said Sponsors, I don't know if I can do it. Can I really be myself, a young girl from District 3, not yet 20, and about to go to her death? The Capitol loves confidence, loves bloodthirsty Tributes and loves romance. I have none of that. What I do have is a family, a rebel's heart, which is sure to get me killed even faster if I demonstrate even the tiniest bit of resistance, and four-inch stiletto heels that I can barely stand in. Indeed, I wobble as I step over to the waiting chair. Just a little bit.

"So tell me, Lauren. You earned yourself a 6 in training, a rather uncommon score among the other Tributes from 3 I've seen in the past. How did you do it?"

Well, yes. A 6 was on the high side for most Tributes of 3, but… "It wasn't what I was hoping for," I answer honestly.

Tiberius's eyebrows flick up. "No?"

"I was hoping for a 7," I admit. "But I suppose that beggers can't be choosers."

This close to the Master of Ceremonies, I can see his face fall. Barely noticeable, and you would have to be very observant to catch it. Luckily for me, I've been tangled up in people for a very, very long time.

"What makes you say that?" He asks, and yes, his tone has sobered.

"We didn't have much to live off of, back in 3," I say matter-of-factly. Not looking for pity. Not fishing for sympathizers. Just the bare, honest truth. "We were better off than some, but most of the people who make up that some are currently sitting dead against a building from starvation." This draws distressed, mournful cries from the audience, and I resist the urge to frown out at the lot of them. If this news makes you so sad, why don't you go do something about it? "I'll take what I can get, and I'm not about to complain if Miss Summers was gracious enough to give me that high of a score. But no matter what happens, or what more score is, I'm going to give my all into the Arena." Butter them up. Make them like you. It's not like they'll see a lot of me before it's too late.

"That's very stoic of you, Lauren," Tiberius says at last. I shrug. Not like it matters. "Now, back at 3, do you have anyone special waiting back home for you? Anyone you'd like to give a shout-out to before our time is up?"

Ha. I wish. As if I would have had time for a romance, when I was running myself ragged trying to take care of my family. "Only my family," I say, and search out the closet camera, looking directly at it. "I just want to tell them that I love them. Also, Wyre, don't put gravel in your brother's next meal. It's not very nice." A soft, almost sad chuckle goes around the room at that. Willing a smile onto my face, I give a little wave. "Treat each other nicely and be nice to our parents until I get back." I finish with blowing a small kiss towards the camera, and stand, the buzzer going off. I didn't make any promises, I reflect, taking Tiberius's hand and letting him raise my own in a mock victory celebration. I don't make promises that I know I can't keep.

o0o

Marina Bloyster (17) District 4 Tribute

If I'd had any hope of the voices vanishing and leaving me be after the episode on the rooftop, I'm sorely let down.

'Hello, Liar,' one purrs. This one wasn't one of the ones who had been on the rooftop with me- this one was different, with a flair for the dramatic. Distinctly male, he doesn't do any harm- he just annoys me so much that it's often hard to think straight. I tend to call him Thomas, although he says his name is Draco. Granted, Draco does seem to fit him better, but until he'd named himself, I'd referred to him as Thomas. I guess old habits are hard to break.

'Let her be,' another chides. Female, this time. She's one of the ones who was on the rooftop- the only one of my voices whoever says anything even remotely positive. 'She's trying to concentrate.'

'Concentrate, shmoncentrate,' Thomas/Draco grumbles back. 'This isn't going to go well at all. I can't see any way where I make it worse.'

'There are plenty of ways you can make it worse,' the female voice snaps. 'And you're doing one right now!'

"I honestly don't mind," I mutter into the empty air in front of me. The boy from 3, who had replaced the living piece of silver who was his District partner, is stuttering his way through the interview Shifting around on his chair, he looks for all the world as if he's perching atop a pincushion. Poor boy.

'Poor you, more like,' Draco interjects. 'You're next!'

"I'll be fine if you stop distracting me," I grumble at him, and Mikail snorts behind me.

"Well, I'm sorry for having to breathe." I can almost taste his sarcasm in the back of my mouth.

"Not you," I say hurriedly. It's getting harder to breathe again.

"Great, so you're just talking to the air again."

'I'm not air!' Draco gasps. 'How dare he insult me!'

"You're part of the reason I'm in this whole mess," I inform him. "So would you please start saying some helpful things, or just shut up so I can not look like a bumbling idiot?"

'Rude,' Draco sulks.

'You've got this!' the female voice is back, soft and lilting. 'It's only three minutes. How hard can it be?'

"More difficult than you can imagine." The little pearls by my eyes are itching at my skin and pulling at the hairs on my eyebrows in one of the most painful ways possible. My Stylist had said that they shouldn't cause me any problems. The pearls are quickly evolving from a nuisance into a problem. Ugh. At least the ties on the cape aren't strangling me. While the other girls are dressed in lovely gowns, my Stylist has put me in a cape and my training outfit from the last few days. Skin-tight and hugging my every curve, I can see why he selected this for me to wear- although it makes me feel rather exposed, especially to the many prying eyes of the Capitol. That might be what the cape is for, although it was probably intended for more aesthetic purposes. The swirling, supposedly luminescent patterns on its underside are less than noteworthy on their own- barely noticeable against the sea-blue of the fabric. Pressed into my hand was a small remote, which could easily be concealed.. A single, circular button rested right up against my thumb, and Jarvan had told me that when I pushed it, the patterns would light up and flash. I'm not quite sure how that's possible, but with how heavy it feels against my shoulders and back, I wouldn't be surprised. Plus, this is the Capitol. Here, anything is possible.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a warm round of applause for Marina Bloyster of District 4!"

Me, I realize, and uneasiness washes through me. He's talking about me. My chest constricts, lungs contracting, and the breath is knocked from me. I need to move. Thankfully, my feet carry me out towards the stage without me having to work up the nerve to tell them to do so, and then I'm across the dias, standing before Tiberius Hearthstone. He offers me his hand, and I take it, his palm completely dwarfing mine. At his gesture, I follow his lead and sit, folding my legs up underneath me, tucking the cloak around myself. Just three minutes, I remind myself. Three minutes. Every voice has evaporated out of my head, along with a fair few of my brain cells, and the rest are getting fried by the spotlight as I struggle to comprehend what Tiberius is saying. My stomach is busy twisting itself into knots, and I can't stop my pinky from twitching back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. An expectant sort of silence has fallen over the crowd. Are they listening? Has he started talking?

Oh.

Oh, no. They're waiting for me to answer, which means I've totally missed the question. Come on, Marina, focus! Fighting the blush spreading across my face, hoping the excessive layers of makeup will hide it. "Sorry, what?"

Tiberius laughs good naturedly, and the audience laughs along with him. That only serves to tighten the tension that's wound itself around something vital in my chest. "Seems someone's nervous," he smiles. "I asked how you're liking it, here in the Capitol."

"Oh," I giggle hesitantly. "Um…" Say something! "The showers are nice," I blurt out.

Tiberius raises both eyebrows, turning to the back to the assembled crowd. "The showers!" he repeats, making a shower sound like it's the best thing to ever be bestowed on mankind. "Tell me more."

The microphone is back in front of my face. I blink at it for a moment, surely making a total idiot out of myself as I try to think of something suitably funny to say. "Yeah, the showers," is all I can think to say, parroting back at him. "It took me about seven different tries to get actual water to come out of one."

At that, everyone seems to chuckle, at least a little. Was that good? Maybe that was good.

"Oh, ho," Tiberius chortles. "And when was this?" A lifeline. He's throwing me a lifeline.

Now it's just up to me whether or not I can use it to keep from drowning.

o0o

Ambrose Volta (14) District 5 Tribute

I am, undeniably, indisputably, and without a doubt, going to throw up all over this man's shiny, shiny black shoes.

It's nothing against him, really. He's doing his best with all of us, trying to bring out the best in everyone here. I've just felt nauseous ever since my Stylist put me in this atrocious pink gown. I mean, pink. The color alone might have been enough to make me barf, nevermind the butterflies that have decided to migrate into my stomach. Oh, God. It's an effort not to put a hand to my mouth.

"Good evening, Miss Volts!" Tiberius cries, and I try not to wince at the volume of his voice. "That is quite an outfit you have!"

Complete with lace, frills, and skirts heavy enough to make me want to topple over, the monstrosity of a dress nearly blinds me when I glance down at it. "... Yes," I say finally, swallowing down the bile rising in the back of my throat. The stage lights are hot enough, and I'm already sweating under them. But now someone's started up a mist machine somewhere, and it's not doing good things to my gut. "It's… very pink."

Tiberius lets out a hoot of laughter, which is quickly echoed by the audience. "Very pink indeed, Ambrose! I'm sure some of our lovely audience members would love to steal that right off you! Maybe even some of your fellow competitors!"

"I'm sure," I say dryly, cutting a glance towards the side of the stage where the rest of the Tributes are lined up and waiting. "Along with a good chunk of skin right off my back."

The corner of Tiberius's mouth curves up into a small smirk. "It is stunning, if I do say so myself."

"Honestly, I think that weaponry suits me better," I clip. In reality, I'm ass at just about any sharp objects you could throw at me, except a steak knife. Or maybe a fork. Yet another distinction that separates me from the members of 5's street gangs.

"Oh? What sort of weaponry, dare I ask?" Tiberius raises an eyebrow. "A sword? Dagger? Bow and arrow?"

"A dagger will do just fine for me, Tiberius, thank you. A sword wouldn't be too bad either, but a bow…" I dare a glance out at the audience, getting a faceful of stage-smoke in the process. "I'd probably end up shooting myself in the foot if I got my hands on one, much less someone else."

That small smile again. Witty and snarky. Confident and sure. I have to take everyone out. Sometimes, lies are told to deceive other people. Other times, lies are told to deceive yourself. Today, I'm trying to do both. But lies have never been my strong suit, and the fact that the steak and potatoes I'd eaten just a few hours before are threatening to come right back up isn't doing anything to help.

"I'll leave the foot-shooting to you then, my dear," Tiberius tells me, amusement clear in his voice. "You sound very confident in your abilities in the Arena, and I can only assume that you've found plenty of allies. Who wouldn't want to ally with this cheeky young lady, am I right?" The audience concurs noisily, and Tiberius turns back to me with a grin. "So, Miss Volta?"

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see, Tiberius," I smile back. With all the bluffing I'm doing tonight, even if I did have any allies to speak of, I wouldn't want to put them in danger or put any sort of target on their backs. Other than the one that's already there, of course.

"Oh, come on," Tiberius insists. "Tell us something, at least! Anything!"

I could tell you that I'm about to vomit, I'm sure you'd appreciate that. You did say anything after all. "I guess you'll just have to wait until the Arena," I shrug. "Sorry."

"Oh, please! Just some idea?"

Idea? Like what? Everything that comes out of my mouth is utter bullshit anyways. A messy web of lies that I can't even begin to sort back through and untangle.

"Like I said, Tiberius," I force myself to look out at the crowd once more. Of course, doing this comes with a lungful of prosthetic smoke that makes my stomach turn over again. "You're just going to have to wait until the Arena. Besides, there are other Tributes here," I emphasize, dropping my voice to a whisper and leaning in conspiratorially. "You can't expect me to be giving away all my plans in front of the competition!"

"No… no, I suppose not," Tiberius aquieces, letting out an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "Best of luck to you in the Arena, Ambrose Volta," he announces as we stand, the buzzer going off. "I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say that we will all be watching out for you tomorrow!"

o0o

Lancia Carerra (13) District 6 Tribute

Run. My every instinct screams at me to run, because this isn't right. It's not right, sitting here, compliant as a marionette, ready to dance at a moment's notice. "So, Lancia. How are you faring in the Capitol?" Tiberius Hearthstone asks from the chair across from me. His amber eyes are warm, but that's only from their color, and there's nothing behind them. There's no sign of human emotion as he watches me, hawklike superiority in his gaze. Like the way a great bird would watch a mouse- tracking it's prey until the time is right, before swooping down and grabbing it up in it's mighty talons.

"I'm doing alright," I answer lamely. "It's… different than 6, but the change is kinda nice." Ugh, that sounds so stupid. "It's a lot nicer here," I attempt, before shutting up again. Likeable but dangerous, I remind myself. You need to be likeable but dangerous, neither one of those is pronounced like the word idiot.

"Always good to hear, always good to hear." He leans forward. "So tell me- how do you feel about being here tonight?"

Risky question. He must not think that I'm much of anything if he's asking me that. It's a safe question for the Careers, who will presumably give the answer of being excited and whatnot, but to ask someone from a lower District… does he really think so little of me?

Everything involving strategy and likeability and danger goes flying out of my head. Do you really think I'm so acquiescent that I'll say that I'm honored to be here? That I'll lie for your sake? To make you and this whole charade look good? "Honestly?" I ask. There. I'm giving you an out. An opportunity to save yourself, before I ruin everything you've ever known.

"Honestly." Thank you.

"Well, tonight, as you've told everyone here, is the eve of the 26th annual Hunger Games," The crowd cheers at this, and I let my nose crinkle in pure, undiluted disgust as I stare out at everyone. Once the noise ceases, with some help from Tiberius's shushing motions, I continue. "It's the eve of the Hunger Games. And those Hunger Games are most likely going to kill me." Only silence greets that statement. "I'm 13," I tell the sea of wigs and glitter before me. "The only things I have waiting back home for me is a life, a father who loves me, and a friend who is in desperate need of my help." Jericho. I think back to all those afternoons we spent, stowed away together in the back of a train car, the smell of smoke or weed in the air, scenery flying past us. The way he always respected my boundaries, never made a single move even when he was high as a kite, or under the influence of alcohol. My father, stuck in the house with that witch, all alone, without me there to hug him or sneak into his room at night during a thunderstorm to curl up with him like I did when I was younger. Whatever there is waiting for me back at home, whoever waits for me back home, won't ever see me again. I won't ever see them again. My father's jean jacket that's wrapped around my shoulders is all the physical reminder that I have left of him. I'm like a cub who has been snatched away from home, helpless, and carried through the air by some great hunting bird, taking me back to its nest to feast on. "All this is, is the lot of you," I wave towards the audience, "destroying 23 families and murdering their children."

"Oh," Tiberius says quietly. Hushed in the space between us. If I hadn't known better, I might have even believed the note of grief in his voice. But no. This is the Capitol, and these are called the Hunger Games for a reason. It's all some sport to them, something to bet on and chatter about until the next year comes, a new batch of children who they send to their death without a second thought.

This isn't how my life should have gone. As horrible as my situation was back home, I didn't have the threat of death constantly looming over me. Even Mazda couldn't compare to what I was about to face, and this is something I cannot run from. All my life, I've been running away from my problems, bolting at the first sight of danger, and I can't do that in the Arena. Even if I somehow make it anywhere near the top, I'm going to be hunted. At least she didn't track me, follow me when I snuck out of the house and fled down to the train station. The Careers here will- and they'll be carrying weapons. Swords, axes, knives, whatever they can get their hands on. And I'll be on their target list.

There is no safe place, not anymore. There won't be anyone to run to and curl up against in the Arena when a thunderstorm hits. Even if I'm in one of the biggest alliances in Hunger Games history, it's not going to be enough. Not in the end. The Bloodbath is our first test, and it's one even I'm not sure we can pass.

Tiberius seems to be at a loss for words, as he hasn't said anything since that second question. Good. The Capitol seems to be in shock as well, soft murmurs breaking out, but nothing more.

I've given this everything I have. I've shown them what I think, told the Districts what I think, told Panem how I feel about this. Now all I can do is hope that my message has been received.

The buzzer sounds, and I rise from my seat. I keep my face unreadable, a wall of impenetrable stone as I square my shoulders and walk offstage.

There's nothing left for me to do, not really. For all the fronting I've done, for all the disgust and loathing I've thrown their way, it hasn't changed a thing. It hasn't changed a single god-damn thing, because I'm trapped beneath the Capitol's sharp, massive claws, and they're only inches away from sinking into my throat.

o0o

A/N: Heyo, everyone! So, yes, this isn't depicting training day 4. It's the night of day 5 in the Capitol, and those were the first half of the interviews. I did some shuffling, and now the Bloodbath is chapter 23, can you believe that? I hope you enjoyed the chapter and got a better feel for the tributes, and maybe felt inspired to move a few around in your opinions list! The chapter title is from Could Have Been Me, which is also by The Struts. Sponsoring is now open from now until the end of the Games, although I would suggest getting your requests in now, as prices will go up as the Games continue. The link to the form is on my profile, and will be used by both reader AND submitter sponsors.

Over and out, may the odds be ever in your favor,

-SetFires (Vixen)