Tima Bluebell, 12
District 9 Female.

Tima shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket closer around her. She couldn't sleep, she knew she needed the rest for tomorrow but she couldn't turn her thoughts off. She could be dead this time tomorrow, or she could be alive she didn't know. She did know all she wanted to do was to go home to her mother and father. She could hear a door open, and then footsteps and she quickly wiped away her tears.

"Tima?" Emmerson called out, sleepily.

"Yeah?" Tima replied, shakily.

"You okay?" Emmerson asked, rubbing his eyes.

"No, not really." Tima replied quietly.

"Oh, okay. Do you want a hug?" Emmerson asked.

"Yes please," Tima replied. Emmerson made his way down to the living room area, and Tima stood to receive the hug. Emmerson wrapped his arms around her, and she felt a little better as he let her go.

"Better?" Emmerson asked, smiling sheepishly.

"Yeah, a little." Tima replied, smiling sadly.

"Wanna talk for a little bit?" Emmerson asked, throwing himself onto the couch. Tima nodded and sat next to him.

"What's going on Teems?" Emmerson asked, grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"I just miss home. My family, my dog." Tima replied with a small sniffle.

"I miss my parents too. I'm their only kid after they lost my older sister as a baby." Emmerson said.

"Your poor parents. I wish I could hug them right now." Tima replied, wide-eyed.

"Me too Teems, me too," Emmerson said, pulling himself closer to Tima. She wrapped her arms around him, and the two dozed off there, where they were discovered th next morning.

Fervin Nowledge, 18.
District 12 Male.

"Fervin! Get your ass out of bed!" Linus shouted, pounding on the door.

"Five more minutes!"

"No! You can't be late for this!" Linus replied. Fervin woke all the way, remembering what was about to happen. Today was the day he went into the arena. Today could be the day he dies. He scrambled out of bed and opened the door to Linus' unimpressed face.

"Get dressed, quickly and then head to the dining room to eat," Linus said, slamming the door shut in Fervin's face.

"Well, somebody's in a bad mood," Fervin said to nobody but his own reflection in the nearby mirror. He quickly got dressed, pulling on a standard pair of pants and a shirt all in their signature navy blue. He stepped out of the room, adjusting the collar of the shirt and making his way to the dining room. He slid into his usual chair, and Iara soon arrived herself. They all ate in silence. Fervin finished quickly, as did everyone else.

"Okay you two, we're gonna take you up to the roof now," Linus said, Seraphina nodding next to him. The group all made their way to the nearby stairs, and onto the roof. There was as promised a helicarrier floating above them, a ladder dangling from it. Linus gestured to Fervin, who stepped onto the ladder. He was frozen in place and then pulled up into the craft. He was unfrozen as he arrived in the craft, and he tumbled onto the floor, not expecting to be able to move. He quickly hopped to his feet, playing it off as if nothing had happened. One of the nearby peacekeepers gestured to the seats, and Fervin picked one at random. Iara soon arrived in the craft as well, choosing a seat as far away as possible from him. Tributes continued to arrive, the pair from One, the pair from Ten, and eventually, everyone was seated. Fervin was between the boy from One, Sarmiento and on his other side was the girl from Three, Janna. One of the peacekeepers stepped up to the center of the aisle and began talking.

"You will remain in your seats the entire ride. You can talk amongst yourselves, but don't be too loud. We're going to be coming around and inserting the tracking devices into your arms, please hold still while we do so." She said, matter of factly. Everyone nodded, and the craft began moving. The peacekeepers began going around, injecting something into the arms of each tribute as they went. A few were talking, but most were silent, their eyes locked on some fixed point in the room. The peacekeeper arrived to him, and held her hand out for Fervin's arm, which he gave her. She inserted the needle, pushing down on the plunger and it was in nearly instantly. He rubbed his arm, feeling the small bump where the tracker now was. The craft continued on for what felt like years, before touching down. It was life or death now.

Noah Skall, 17.
District 10 Male.

Noah stepped out from behind the curtain, straightening the jacket. The outfit was interesting, to say the least, he was dressed in a lined zip-up jacket, over a long-sleeved shirt, along with a pair of solid boots and cargo-like pants, all in the familiar beige-brown that is District Ten's colour. He moved around, swinging his arms.

"How does it feel?" His stylist, Starkus asked.

"Good, it fits just right," Noah replied curtly.

"Is there anything you want? Water? A snack?" Starkus asked, gesturing to the small fridge nearby.

"Just some water, thanks," Noah replied. Starkus stood and opened the fridge, grabbing a water bottle which he tossed to Noah. Noah caught it, and cracked it open, taking a sip.

"So how are you feeling?" Starkus said, taking his seat once again.

"Fine, I guess," Noah replied, uninterested with sharing his feelings with a ditzy capitolite.

"Do you have a plan?" Starkus asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna bother telling you. It either works and I live, or it doesn't and I die." Noah replied with a shrug. Starkus looked slightly taken aback.

"Tributes if you would please step into the glass tube momentarily." A robotic voice rang through the room. Starkus gestured to the aforementioned glass tube, which Noah ducked into.

"Good luck Noah. It was a pleasure being your stylist." Starkus said, holding his hand out for Noah to shake. Noah shook it, and then pulled his hand back as the glass tube slid closed.

"10, 9, 8." The robotic voice rang out, echoing through the tube.

"7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1" The plate beneath his feet moved upwards, startling Noah. He was deposited onto his pedestal, the bright sunlight blinding him. He looked around, a light breeze smelling of water hit his face, the sound of waves nearby. Distantly he could see massive looming, decrepit skyscrapers.

"Welcome tributes to the 203rd Hunger Games!"

Just a short bridge chapter, between interviews and the bloodbath. Speaking of the bloodbath, I'll be seeing you Sunday, June 14th at 12 PM EST. Signing off, Times.