Metamorphosis: The 100th Hunger Games
Interviews! - Part Two.

Alana Oskoii, 56
District 8 Female

"I'm glad you guys enjoyed that little interlude..." Marceline says. "Are you ready to move on to the second batch of tributes?!"

I nervously rock on my heels as the crowd lets out a holler loud enough to make my ears ring from back here.

"Alright, now we move on to District 8. As of recent, Eight has been a lively place..."

My mind drifts back to the interviews of my allies that I so foolishly decided to join up with. Mr. Marcenas is still missing. Sure, the crowd enjoyed Vera's interview but the brains behind the scenes are most definitely iffy about her. Marceline held no punches back regarding Hermia, one of the most straightforward women I've ever met.

How would she treat me, I wonder?

I shake my head dismissively. I've done nothing wrong except accept an alliance proposal from a young lady who says seditious things! Emphasis on 'says'. Tell me, how would she act out on those feelings after what happened with Katniss Everdeen?! How could she!? I'm worrying about nothing. This interview should be easy-peasy.

"...Please welcome Alana Oskoii, author of When Songbirds Cry! Get up, on your feet!"

With help from the Assistant, who with starstruck eyes wishes me luck , I bound up the stairs and into the blinding lights of Marceline's stage. That light, mixed in with the immense cheering overwhelms my senses. Regardless of this confusion, I press on, waving towards the audience with one of my brightest smiles. They wave back with even more zeal, some even wave notebooks. I glance toward Marceline, who gestures to me and then toward them. It's all a blur. I was on the stage a moment ago and now I find myself under Peacekeeper guard as I move across the first row, shaking hands signing things this way and that. If their cheers were loud on stage, being right up against them was like being in the center of a tornado.

It was everything I ever wanted, adoring fans not just on a local scale, but national one...but the circumstances aren't right enough for me to fully enjoy it.

The Peacekeepers allow me back on stage as I shakily make my way toward the Master of Ceremonies. Marceline's lips move, but no noise comes out.

Rubbing my ears does the trick, ridding them of the ringing that flooded my hearing. "I'm sorry. Could you say that once more?" I ask, joining the audience as they chuckle.

"I said you look absolutely fab in that dress." Marceline says with a snicker. "Who made it again? Was it Ptolemy Jacobs, looks like something he had his hands in..."

I make a show of displaying the white gown I wore to the audience at-large, accessorized with white gloves and a sheer cape that hooked over my right shoulder. "Yes, Ptolemy makes nothing but the best, doesn't he?"

"Ptolemy, take a stand right now! Ptolemy Jacobs!" Marceline turns her attention back to me. "Alana you look like an angel. If you win, we're gonna have to splash some blood on it or something. I kid, I kid – not! Come take a seat, you are indeed a tribute of particular interest this time around."

"...I couldn't imagine why." I snip back, earning laughter from the audience.

"Let's get right into it then." Marceline says with a sly smile. "I saw you a couple of weeks back at the Lancaster Awards ceremony, didn't I?"

"Why yes you did, Marceline."

"And why was that?"

"Well, I was nominated for and won the Lancaster Prize for fiction due to my writing." I reply while smiling bashfully as the audience douses me with praise once again.

Even Marceline joins in, offering a polite clap. "'When Songbirds Cry' is really, really popular. Why is that?"

"Well, as I love to say, there's a Velvet in every woman just waiting to get out..."

"I too yearn for the day I could kill my various exes." Marceline says with a cackle. "I'm sorry, please continue."

"Uh, yes..." I continue, albeit hesitantly. "I believe that many women across the nation have dreams and aspirations, but are unfortunately boxed in by 'tradition'. Velvet simply embodies that feeling through her story."

"That's a common critique. Many people say that it gives women the wrong idea, harking back to the gynocentric tendencies of pre-Panem..."

"I'm sorry, gynocentric?"

"Hey beats me..." Marceline says with a smirk and a shrug. "But in layman's terms, apparently your writing throws the traditional dynamic out of whack. Women have roles to play and promoting a feminist view weakens Panem's cohesion."

I let out a scoff. For the first time ever, I've just seen Marceline Devereaux falter. Marceline Devereaux, the queen of poise, wasn't confident in her tone. She knows that critique is bullshit. I can't help but think back to Vera's words just days ago...

"You were selected, let's not be coy." Said Vera, a light chuckle in her tone as she rose to her feet and loomed over me, her awestruck features seem to be replaced with a steely mask. "Like lightning in a bottle, women across the nation flock to your book like they did Marcia Quimby's erotica. Except this time, you offered us a chance to think instead engage of mindless pleasure..." Vera's face grew hot as she smirked.

"Not that we don't need that sometimes...but given our current state, it's something they can ill afford."

It really does make sense now...Reaped because I gave people something to genuinely think about. What a rebellious thing to do, write and talk about issues that affect everyone.

"Come on, Marceline. Who said that, the same men who benefit from keeping their wives down?" I chided, brushing her off with a dismissive wave. "By that logic you must be a rebel too then?"

Her face flush with unease, Marceline's eyes flicker from side to side. "How so?"

"How many women have sat in your position?" I ask her. It's been Caesar Flickerman since I was little, and three other men post-War. "Look what you've done to get here. I don't see a ring on your finger? What about our president? What about the top Gamemaker? So when people talk about roles to play...Panem's most proficient people aren't playing as much. You three are Velvets in your own right."

"That's a fair observation..." Marceline says while nodding slowly. That uncertainty turns into a slight chuckle. "Women are running this town it seems."

Which makes this critique all the more hypocritical. With a woman president, you'd think things would be somewhat better for girls in Panem. In the Capitol, maybe. "Exactly...However in the districts, our situations could use some work." I continue. "So no, I won't apologize for inspiring women to move from their comfort zones and actualize themselves." I'm not talking garbage it seems, as women and even some men in the audience woop and holler while rising out of their seats with vigorous applause. A single raise of the hand from Marceline is enough to get them to still.

"And so, in the event you don't make it out of the arena...how will your themes endure?"

I cross one leg over the other. Part of me still believes all this to be so surreal. In twenty-four hours, my time on earth could be very well limited. "Alongside my lovely children, who I miss very dearly, I am currently in talks with my team...so stay tuned."

"And stay tuned we will." Marceline replies with a wink. "Now I had a question myself about well...you personally."

"Go on?"

Marceline's face becomes serious, cupping her hands on her desk. "What happened to Jamithon Oskoii, your husband?"

He was drinking...again. I guess he was smart enough to scour through our budget books, smart enough to realize some money was missing.

"You did WHAT?!" Jamithon roared. Cowered in our living room corner, Darcelle and Marcel clung to my side, the three of us shrieked as his whiskey bottle exploded above us.

"I-I-I enrolled into university?" I murmured while avoiding his glare. "I enjoy the material, I could easily make the money ba –"

My vision flashed white as his fist connected with my face. He's got me by the hair now, as he tugged me across the floor.

Darcelle could only flail helplessly in Marcel's arms as he held her back. "Mommy!"

"...He went missing." I reply immediately. "He was known for hiking around the district's fringes. He didn't return that evening when he went...W-Why do you ask?"

"You dumb bitch, who the fuck told you you could?!"

"What inspired you to write?" Marceline asks. "Your bouts of abuse, correct? Jamithon was abusive towards you, right?"

All I could do was cover my head as he unleashed his fury all over my body. Every place my hands rushed to protect left the previous area exposed and he would switch to that spot as well.

"Daddy, no, stop it!" Darcelle screamed as she clung to his arm. A stiff shove sent her to the floor.

I nod slowly. The nod could easily be wrote off as a nod of unease toward recollecting his abuse toward me, not his 'disappearance.' "Yes..."

Marceline raises a brow. "Have you heard of the term 'self-insert' before?"

"No..." I lied.

"Well, Velvet's married with two kids...Gets her start later on in life just like you..."

I nod slowly. "Yes...and?"

I felt myself growing weaker and weaker as with every strike. I don't bother shielding myself any longer. I just wanted to sleep. Just as I stated to drift away, I'm jolted awake by a shout. I look up to see Jamithon's face contorted with pain as he attempted to reach around his back. Instead, he collapsed onto the floor – a chef's knife protruding out his back. Behind him, Marcel gazed at his father, mortified.

Marceline holds her gaze toward me before pouting and shaking her head, rolling her eyes. "I dunno...I think its Hermia's wine that's making me go on a tangent." She says, snickering while holding up the bottle for me to see. "Forget it. Let's move on to the present!"

"Ok..." I nod, mentally shrinking further into the sofa as the audience began to laugh. Did anyone read between the lines? I wonder?

"Don't worry babies. Shh, shh..." I said to them as I gathered the both of them in my arms. "What happened here is just between you and mommy, ok?"

With hands on either side of the armrests, Marceline folds one leg over the other. "Why are you in an alliance with Ricardo Marcenas and co?"

"Well, Vera was a big fan of mine and extended the offer." I reply with a smile. "She's a nice girl, it's a shame we're all caught up in this."

"She volunteered for it." Marceline said with a dismissive tone. "But you are aware of the controversy, right?"

"Yes, but like Hermia said, what could a rebellious tribute do in an arena that could kill them at any moment?" I answer with a shrug. If they wanted to, they could blow us sky high before the gong went off. "Why the overreaction?"

"Well, we did just fight a war over troublesome tributes..." Marceline replies in a weary and joking tone. "The government is not keen on fighting again."

"You have nothing to worry about..." I say gently, politely inclining my head. Maybe not from us, but if District Eight's Reaping Day was any indication... "I don't believe this applies to me. My goal is to simply try and survive."

Marceline nods amid polite cheering. Rising out of her seat, she moves to join me on the sofa. "Okay. So, besides literary skill, what do you have to offer this year? A six is a satisfactory score...I'm curious as to how you got it."

"Ah, bup bup, I don't want to give away that just yet." I answer playfully while taping her knee. "Let's just say that I have plenty of other interests that could suit me well in the arena."

Marceline makes a show of pouting. "Ok. I'm sure that plenty of eyes will be watching you. May I...?" she gently collects me by the hand and escorts me to the front of the stage, as she presents me to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, Alana Oskoii! Good luck Alana, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I wave to the cheering audience, a smile plastered on my face. "Thank you for all your support!" I say. It's only now just starting to sink in, Vera's words, the stupid line of questioning... How could this place be so fragile?

"You were selected, let's not be coy." Vera said.

And there was nothing I could do about it. Although judging by the crowds reactions, maybe they could do something about it.

Russett Gilmour, 29
District 8 Male

"Sure, District 8 has a rather interesting female this time around, but the male is someone to note as well, as you'll find out and may already know. Please join me in welcoming a Mr. Russett Gilmour!"

I waste no time entering the stage, thought part of me wishes I'd taken my time. As a guy who prefers limited company, the attention and cheers the crowd unnerve me regardless of the how many lessons Janice taught me. I opt for a curt wave and a grin towards the audience before turning my attention to Marceline as I offer her a polite handshake from across her desk.

"Welcome to the stage, Russett." Marceline greets.

"Thanks for having me, Marceline." I reply.

Marceline gestures to her face. "You gotta little something..."

"Oh yeah...that," I say weakly, earning laughter here and there from the audience. The stylists added grease to my face, to play up that factory worker bit. It was a hasty decision, contrasting oddly with the shades in my hair, grey sweater and dark trousers I wore. "The prep team added it for some reason, I told them it didn't really work, but eh."

"I still think you look good." Marceline replies with a wink. "So, your reaping was a little odd...How are you feeling about that?"

"The odds were most definitely not in my favor..." I reply lamely, groaning inwardly at the audience's laughter. Who would've thought that after the factory supervisor blew his brains out on national television to escape the reap that I would be his runner up. I don't recall walking under fifty ladders to get so unlucky.

"They were most definitely not, and I'll tell the people why." Marceline says with a shake of her head. "Russett here is a little something of a hero back in District 8. Do you mind telling us why?"

"The factory I was assigned to caught fire and exploded." I recall, the sights of the accident flooding my mind again. The way the thick black smoke contrasted with the pristine whiteness of the factory was unnerving to behold.

"I heard there were complications?" Marceline inquired.

I snort. "That's a funny way to put it. Due to our idiot supervisor, Rafferty, locking us in, we didn't have a clear escape route." I say bitterly. "Many more people would've died – as they say – if I didn't herd most of them out through a shipping exit."

"Tell me about some of the people you saved..." Marceline asks with concern in her tone.

"There were too many to count." I reply with a shake of my head. "But there's one girl who'll stick with me the most. Her name's Madsyn...Madsyn Voldock." I answer. "I had to uh, escort her away while her father was pinned down by a girder. Too little time to try and help and he insisted we leave."

Marceline leans forward on her desk. Her fists balled up at her mouth. "I believe you were injured trying?"

I respond by simply flashing my scarred, wrinkled palms for the nation to see as a few of them gasp sharply. I briefly remember attempting to hoist the steel beam, Madsyn's screams of urgency and her father's screams of pain mixing together to form sorrowful racket that kept me up for many nights since then.

"I'd like to believe that your efforts were quite heroic." Marceline consoles. "Why, if you didn't have your head on your shoulders, I imagine that that disaster would be ten times worse!"

"I wouldn't really call myself a hero..." I reply lowly. I was just using common sense. Anyone else could've done what I did.

"You lie, of course you're a hero! Everyone back home seems to think so!" Marceline turns to the audience now. "And we do too, right guys?!"

The audience roars with applause in response and I can't help but smile.

"I mean, the wife of Mr. Voldock and Madsyn herself is staying with you currently, correct?"

"Yes they are." I reply with a nod. And yet, despite all the hardship, they were doing a-ok. Madsyn's been such a help with Genevieve, like the little sister she never had. Mrs. Voldock and Clarisse are quite the team, especially with the baby on the wa...Oh Goddammit. With all this going on, Clarisse is at home with our son on the way...

"What an immense help that must be for them? What you did is a noble thing, never sell yourself short!" "Speaking of nobility...Your coworkers seem to be misdirecting their anger."

"Oh, how so?"

"Well, you've seen it yourself. The protests are spiraling into something far greater." Comments Marceline. "I wanted your opinion on the matter."

"Oh yeah, I was planning to stage a protest or two myself." I declare proudly, earning some gasps and musing from the audience.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I'm constantly hearing about changes being made, but as a frontline worker, all I've seen is the status quo. How am I supposed to "Love your labor and take pride in your task" if the basic working conditions aren't met? I bet the Capitol's distribution centers are in good condition?" Marceline raises a finger, but I raise a hand to counter it. No, Panemians need to hear this. If it's the last thing I say, let this be it. "I don't condone outright violence, like we've seen in recent days, but if concerns aren't being met after multiple times, of course people are going to be frustrated."

"So what are you proposing?"

"I am proposing that the Capitol step in improve working conditions. Like really step in. Then maybe things would improve." I reply. No, it wasn't rebellious to want better conditions for us to work in, more safety nets. Not everything has to be related to rebellion. "How about we move on to the Games, I'm sure that's what everyone here is interested in?"

"I agree wholeheartedly Mr. Gilmour." Marceline grins while the audience laughs and applauds lightly. "So, no alliance for you, why is that?"

"I've been asked, but I wasn't quite sure if I could trust others so openly."

Marceline nods. "That's fair. Giant alliances are a formula for disaster."

"Exactly," I nod, thinking back to Chris and his alliance. It wasn't exactly one built around trust, but more so necessity. "I thought I'd go it alone and if someone comes across me in the arena – and they're down for it – we could sort something out. Otherwise, this may be a solo attempt."

"And from that training score of yours, you're in the position to do fairly well in that attempt."

"Personally, I'm surprised that I did so well." I admit. I thought I'd get a six or something, the elation of our team when the 8 flashed across the screen was something else.

With a smirk on her lips, Marceline jabs a finger toward me. "Don't sell yourself short!" she chides, cackling along with the audience. "Now, I know that you have a lot to get back home to...do you mind explaining to us what?"

"I have the most wonderful wife and daughter waiting for me back home..." sighing sharply, I roll my shoulders in a poor attempt to stave off any tears. "I was supposed to welcome a son very soon too."

The audience's sighs of sadness mean nothing to me. Of all the people they could've chosen to reap, they reap husbands, young people and doctors...If anything their reaction is equivalent to kicking me while I'm down.

Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, Marceline and I walk toward the front of the stage. "Do you have any words for them?"

I nod, thankful that she removed her hand. "Of course, I had a letter written but putting a voice to it wouldn't hurt."

She shuffles back a step or two, gesturing towards the entirety of the audience in a sweeping motion. "Alright, go on."

I exhale. In a normal circumstance, I'd shy away immediately from something like this, however this could be the very last time to vocalize my thoughts. I could go on for hours, but I'd be a babbling idiot if I did. So...I just say what comes to mind.

"Gen, be a good big sister to your baby brother. Help your mother out too." I clear my throat and blink slowly, thankful that no tears have fallen...yet. To my surprise, some members of the audience don't seem to have my composure, as they dab their eyes with handkerchiefs.

Why would they be crying...Only the Gods know.

"Clarisse, oh Clarisse...It's been a great three years, hasn't it? I need you to be strong, regardless of what happens in that arena. You and I know how hard it is when parents aren't all there...I love you like you don't understand. I wish I could hold you one last time...Maybe soon."

The crowd lets out a resounding cheer. "Oh...something tells me you'll get your chance soon enough." Marceline winks. "I'm afraid we're out of time, friend. Russett Gilmour, everyone! Good luck to you."

I nod, exchanging one last handshake with the Master of Ceremonies and a final wave to the audience before returning backstage.

I may not be a fancy doctor, famous author, rich or an outright rebel...but I have things to live for too and I'm willing to do anything to get back to them.

Verona Kinsley, 63
District 7 Female

"Next up, please welcome Verona Kinsely – the female tribute for District 7!"

With all these stupid twists they put on this year – messing up the orders and changing the goddamn furniture – why couldn't they just line us up and melt our brains with plasma?!

Groaning, I march out onto the stage, shielding my eyes from the damn lights until they adjust, waiting until they do. When my vision finally adjusts, I wave halfheartedly to the crowd that cheers too damn loud. It's not like their cheers for me were on par with the other, younger contestants. I'm a twelve year old to them in a regular year, not that I gave a hoot about their thoughts anyway. Marceline steps into view, that stupid grin on her lips as she extends a hand forward.

"Are the lights too bright for you Verona?" she asks.

I give her the weakest handshake known to man. Hell, I barely even gripped her hand and pumped it once. "Yes, you need to turn those damn things down." I snap, taking my seat on the sofa. "Are you trying to screw me up for tomorrow?"

Before she took her seat, she lingers for a slight second. Hermia was right. Marceline's eyes betray the rest of that happy façade. Her pupils are so beady. "No, not at all...I'd never try to screw you over, never ever." She says only to turn to the audience and jokingly wink. "You look good tonight, Verona."

"I'm dressed as a tree." I deadpan, tugging at the high waist dress. The bottom half was bark-like in pattern and texture while the top half was green – tree.

Marceline wobbles her head from side to side. "Well...unlike a chariot outfit..."

"It's patterned like a tree." I seethe one more.

Marceline shrugs "Well, some things never change then." She says to a laughing audience.

I glower, leaning back into the couch to gain some sort of reprieve. Oh my god...can't I just go back to the lounge? Marceline seems to finally acknowledge my mood, her smile turning into a wry little grin as she leans forward on her desk while cupping her cheeks.

"Verona..." Marceline begins with a chiding tone. "Is something the matter?"

"Yeah, there is. I'm dying soon. So forgive me if I'm a little bummed..." I glare toward the audience as the double over in laughter. Has the dye gotten to their brains or something?! "That's not funny..."

Marceline struggles to keep a straight face. "Well, certainly if you apply yourself..."

"I'm old Marceline, stop beating around the bush." I retort, folding my arms. I'm not one of your friggin' twelve-year-olds. "I'm old enough to be any tributes mother, grandmother or eldest sister."

"I bet you wear all those hats back home." Marceline replies with a polite smile. "I hear you run a community home?"

"Yes, I did, until I was taken for no reason to be here." I shoot.

"Well, I wouldn't say 'for no reason'..." Marceline challenges with a slight frown. "Your father was a key part of the rebel cell in Seven. And didn't you have a role to play during the War?"

"I was a nurse for crying out loud!" I clap back. I nursed people to health after they got bombed, gassed, plasma-burned and mauled by muttations...Verona you menace, you! "It was a pretty small role if you ask me. Out of all the people you could've reaped, let me say you chose a bad batch this year..." I'm not wrong when I say that. Celosia and Everett chatter nonstop about the various riots and protests happening in Seven and across Panem. Hell, that Russett boy just brought up Eight's problems.

Marceline shrugs. "There aren't that many significant rebels kicking around anymore..."

I snort. "Yeah, with you guys constantly dangling them from ropes, no wonder you ended up with us..."I reply tersely, to the chatter of concern and hesitant laughter from the audience.

Marceline lets out an airy chuckle. "What a spitfire this cat is! if you apply this anger in the arena, you'll have a decent chance. I heard that you gave the Gamemakers a little taste of that in your private session yesterday." She says teasingly. "They say they never seen an older lady toss things around like you did."

"Hm." I grunt, ignoring the laughter from the audience.

"Tell me about your family...The community home." Marceline says, reclining in her seat. "Maybe that'll spur some confidence in you."

"Seven Oaks was my home and family." I reply, my thoughts swimming with the plethora of faces I had raised since the War's end. There must be at least over a thousand...A thousand souls who are far better off because of my devotion. "I've raised an adopted son, I've raised so many grandchildren, though I only have three officially – they too are from the home. Zara, Jonah, Simona...from birth to eighteen – raised by me. I don't think you have any idea how hard it is for children like those in homes. No one will love them like I did. And because of this-" I motion around me. "I can't go back to doing what I love."

Marceline nods. "I understand, but unfortunately, the hallmark of Panemian justice is atonement, if not the assailant, then their associates."

"Because an old lady will be soooo entertaining in a death match." I retort, earning idiotic laughter from the audience.

"Speaking of entertaining, why don't we move onto the Games proper?" Marceline says while that faux smile still remains on her face. "You have quite the alliance amassed...What's your take on the controversy it's generating?"

"If you guys are afraid of a kid, and four older adults who are on the tail end of the reaping pool...you guys must be pretty vulnerable." I grouse.

"So nothing is the matter you think? We shouldn't worry?" Marceline inquires with a raised brow.

"What am I going to do, launch an electrified arrow into the force field?" I smirk, relishing for the first time as the audience sniggers. Emboldened, I continue. "Are-are we gonna all survive until the end and have a polygamous marriage with Tobias as its center? Are we gonna be the 'District-crossed lovers'?" The crowd doubles over in laughter. Seeing Marceline's face as she nods with that stupid smile on her lips while her eyes could probably kill me if looks could makes the moment all the more savory.

Marceline finally quiets the crowd. "So, what's your endgame Ms. Kinsley?"

"I've made my peace with the probable outcome." I reply with a shrug. "I'm just gonna take things hour by hour and try not to worry as much."

"Well, Vera seems right in saying that this alliance of yours will serve as an interesting player. What role you will play, we'll have to see." Marceline gestures to me from behind her desk. "Unfortunately this conversation needs to end now. Thank you, Verona Kinsley!"

I immediately get up from my seat and retreat backstage. That wasn't half bad, but it still doesn't take away from the fact that we're – I'm – going to die soon.

Chris Samera, 30
District 7 Male

"What is wrong with them?" the Assistant yaps while tapping away at his communicuff. "None of them thought to stop you?"

"Why would they stop me?" I say sadly, muttering my apologies to a Peacekeeper as I accidentally stumble over their boot. "Tonight is a time for...celubraaytion!"

The Assistant bit his lip. "Perhaps you could have waited after the interviews were through to do such things?!"

I shrug, and my hands shoot up a little bit too high for my liking. "I enjoy pre-gaming...sorry." I say lowly as Ms. Kinsley bounds down the steps. I wave to her. "Heey, Ms. Kinsleyy! I just wanted to say you did great out there!"

The older lady smirks while clapping me on the shoulder. "Gee, thanks Chris. Something tells me you'll do a million times better."

I smile. "Really...? I hope so!" I say, waving my goodbyes as she leaves down the hall. Ms. Kinsely is such a swell lady. While our mentors are always so serious, she likes to let loose...like me!

"Please join me in welcoming Chris Samera to the stage!" a voice says from up the stairs.

"Up, up, up you go!" says the Assistant as the Avox lady helps me up.

"Thank you guys so much," I say to the woman as she continues to push me towards the lights.
"You're both so very caring and – oh, look at all these people!"

There are so many people in here...like...so many. All of them cheering and smiling at me. I walk all the way to the edge of the stage, waving back towards the colourful sea of people. "Hey guys, good evening, thanks for 'avin' me!"

"Welcome to the stage, Chris!"

I turn around to see Marceline with her hand extended toward me. Handshakes are so formal. So instead, I give her a biiig hug and swing her around.

"An affection one, I can dig that!" she says aloud. She tries to escape by pressing down on my chest, but there's no escaping a hug from ol' Chris!

"Heey Marceline, buddy, it's nice to finally meet ya!" I plop her down on her feet, pumping her hand like one would pump a well handle.

She stumbles back a few steps, exhaling while the audience laughs. I do too. "...Nice to meet you too, Chris." She says, adjusting her shirt. "Please...take a seat! I think that's enough standing for now..."

"Sure thing, Marcy!" I reply, plopping down on her sofa. It was so nice and comfortable. "Can I call you Marcy?"

"Why not?" She shrugs, much to the enjoyment of the people watching.

I give her a thumbs up. "Greeat!"

"So, Chris..." Marcy asks from behind her desk.

I tug at the wide lapels of my bottle-green suit, offering a bright smile. "Yuup, that's me!"

As the audience giggles, Marcy smirks. "How do you dig the Capitol so far?"

"How do I like the Capitol...How do I like the Capitol?!" I bellow, rising out of my seat as I stomp over toward Marcy's desk. She shoots me a scared look, so scared I can't help but laugh! "It's great! It's a very clean place, the people are pretty friendly!" I point to the audience as they let out a cheer. "And there's plenty of good eats to be had."

Marcy lets out a chuckle. "What's your favourite dish?"

I sit back down with a hiccup. "Hmmm...I think the fried venison is out of this world!"

Marcy waggles a finger in agreement. "That's an amazing choice, or so I hear. Side it off with some potatoes and you got yourself a meal!"

"Mhm!" I nod, and nod, and nod, and nod, hiccup and nod. Marcy's face gets all funny looking, and the people in the audience start to laugh.

"What?" I ask her, smirking as the crowd rumbles again with giggles. She wiggles her head slowly from side to side – and then faster – and then back to slow again. By the end of it, she's like...all over the place. Like her shadow isn't catching up with her, or something.

"Please stop." I chuckle. Any more of that, and I'd be sick right here.

A smirk grows on her face as the audience can't seem to hold it together. "Something tells me you enjoy the Capitol's sauce as well."

"Yeaaah, your stuff hits waaay different than Seven's...stuff."I reply, hiccupping. "Usually I wouldn't on the count of my wife not liking it, but I thought since tonight, why not indulge?"

"I see...Let's talk about back home. I hear you're pretty popular back in Seven. I think we can see why..."

I let out a mighty chuckle along with the audience. "Life was great in Seven. I did construction – plenty of money to be had there. And I had the best and I mean the best coworkers a fella could ask for!"

"They speak very highly of you, especially your sisters and brother-in-law." Marceline continues. "And we can't forget Mary and your son Patrick. Mary dotes on you very much."

"Yeah, there all pretty great..." I nod, holding my gaze to the floor. "And yeah, Mary's always on my back, but I don't care...she keeps me straight. Patrick is like a mini-me! I don't have to worry. He'll be a good kid." I think back to all the birthday parties, the summer barbecues, the laughs...Most likely, I'll never have a time like that again. When I glance up, Marcy is in front of me with tissues in her hand.

"Chris...your eyes seem to have sprung a leak." She says, handing me the item in question.

"Thanks..." I accept the tissues and dab them at my eyes. "I'm sorry Marcy, it's just that I'm not ready to say goodbye to them yet..."

"I understand. Though there isn't much use in throwing in the towel just yet. Like look at your training score! A lot of Gamemakers are impressed with your skill, so I imagine in an arena you'd perform pretty well."

"Yeah...Yeah, you're right!" I say, chuckling with a snap of a finger. "Thanks Marcy, you're the best!"

Marcy smirks, shrugging. "I didn't really do anything... but a gal never tires of hearing such things." She says, cackling along with the audience. "So I take it that you're ready...After a mug of coffee and a good night's sleep that is?"

I lean back into the sofa, splaying my arms out comfortably. "I'd like to think I'm ready for whatever comes my way!" I reply with a smirk.

"You just might be. They say that you've amassed quite an alliance this year."Marcy muses. "What like five people? I believe that's bigger than the Career pack this year."

"Yeep, I got quite a group of people together!" I reply proudly, grinning while folding my arms. We're like the...better Careers!

Marcy makes a gesturing motion with her hands. "Tell me about 'em."

"Ludra's pretty sweet, and Gio's a cool guy, never seen someone swing a mace like he has before! Linden is serious all the time, but I don't blame the...guy. Laelia is the youngest but she seems ready to go. We're all ready to go!"

"This alliance definitely has some lookers, Chris." Marcy replies over the applause. "We look forward to their performance as well as yours. Unfortunately, this interview is through."

"Aww man, but...but I was having fun!" I raise my hands in protest. You know what? I don't know why everyone tears them down all the time. These Capitol people are very nice. I've never felt so welcome in my life.

"Time flies when you're having fun..." Marcy chirps. Moving from her desk, she links arms with me as she guides me to the front of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen – Chris Samera of District 7! Thank you Chris for the interview, I imagine this will be one for the books!"

"Thank you Marcy, thank you all!" I pivot on my heels and spin around to head back to the bars...but instead, I spin and spin and spin until I somehow find myself in the arms of two Peacekeepers. "Thanks guys!"

That was nice...tributes should do what I do more often!

Zahira Kazimirova, 33
District 6 Female

I offer a polite smile as a drunken Chris waves to me, escorted by two Peacekeepers. That smile immediately fades as I turn to watch him continue to be towed down the hall. As much as I would love to do the same thing, I prefer being taken seriously much more.

"Celosia, Connor, Everett...Does he do this up in the penthouse?" Marceline asks as the audience roars with laughter. "Here's hoping he gets a cold shower or something. You don't want him stumbling off the plate prematurely. Alright, here we are at District 6. District 6 is currently on everyone's radar due to Izzy Wilkinson putting them there – there you are Izzy – everyone loves Izzy. Will they make it a twofer? Let's find out. Please join me in introducing the District 6 female - just one of our many doctors this year – Zahira Kazimirova!"

Thankfully, the lights situation Verona was griping about was solved as I effortlessly transition from the backstage to Marceline's set. It was a little jarring to be the subject of everyone's adoration, even if it was brief. I take it in stride and put on that Giambrone charm – smiling and waving all the way to Marceline's side.

"Zahira, Zahira, Zahira..." the host purrs as she gives me a look-over."You are one choice looking girl in that outfit. Not that you aren't always choice, am I right people or am I right?"

The stylist for Six is on the cutting edge of fashion, so it seems, styling me in a flared, silver jumpsuit with a plunging 'V' neckline, matching heels and a black, encrusted ribbon tied around my waist with a headband to accessorize. Everything about it seems to shimmer as the host takes me by the hand and giving me a twirl.

"Hello everyone, and thank you Marceline," I coo back in reply. "I enjoy this outfit too. It's very...fab."

"It's just so unbelievably fab..." Marceline gushes, pivoting on her feet and jutting a finger toward the audience. "Fendi, you've outdone yourself this time around. I just might have to get one myself, ha ha! Come come, take a seat..."

I obey, sitting on the teak sofa while crossing one leg over the other. Where Marceline was good at making people comfortable, she was just as deft at veering the conversation into uncomfortable territory, as she did with some of the others already. I could only hope that my associates back home kept their mouths shut or that Marceline's 'assets' didn't dig too deep.

"So, what's your doctoral trade Zahira?" Marceline asks with jaw in palm. "We have a scientist and now...?"

"Oh you know...I'm a general practitioner." I reply with a smile. "I'm the person you would see if you booked a normal appointment."

I am most definitely not a part-time chemist who synthesizes morphling for profit and if she were found out by the general public would be tossed off the Ambassador Bridge. So don't ask.

Marceline doesn't pry any further, instead humming in acknowledgement. "I hear that you work in a local clinic. A lot of people seem to look up to you, as they all sing your praises."

That seems to be a common theme...tributes being from communities in which people respected them. Why is that, I wonder? Unless you want disarray, why take people away who contribute and matter?

Instead of vocalizing that, I simply grin. "Yes, I do. East Riverside. It's been there since pre-Panem. It's not just me. All our practitioners seem to be people of high reputation. We wouldn't have it any other way. We aid anyone, no matter what their station in life is."

"I hear you guys even have a support dog?" the screen above us showcases the many photos take of the bulldog and patients.

"Yes, my family dog Chevy serves that role very well." I nod, adjusting my glasses. "She's great with the kids that visit us."

"She's smart, beautiful and humble – what a package!" Marceline sniggers as the audience woops in approval.

"I like to credit my parents for sticking with me so I could develop those traits." I make sure to shoot the cameras a seductive wink.

"They're Giambrones – socialites. I would expect nothing less." Marceline replies with a respectful nod. "I also hear that you work with Theilan Caldron...what a twist, eh?"

Yeah...what a twist, a sick twist is what it is. I adjust my glasses. "An unfortunate twist, really. There are more worthy people to be selected as tribute over him. I won't say too much, as you'll be talking to him shortly...but uh, I'm glad there's someone I'm familiar with here with me."

It was a mixed feeling, really. It's nice to have someone you know than a complete stranger, it gives me time to focus on mapping my way through the Games without worrying about my back. However, this friendship is unfortunately going to come to an end one way or another. I just hope I won't have to be the one to end it. If it means getting home to my boys, I will –even if it kills me on the inside.

"That must be 'good', definitely a plus in a Games scenario – to have that deep of a trust in an ally." Marceline nods as the crowd applauds. "Six is a very small world, it seems. Your husband, Virgil, worked with you all, yes?"

I adjust myself to stave away the pain but it doesn't work. "Yes..."

"And he...?" Marceline continued lowly.

"He passed away, yes. It's been two years now – a bar fight gone bad." I breathe, accepting Marceline's tissues as the tears start to flow. They were a mixture of crocodile tears and bitter tears. The latter because, yes, I did love the man and I gave him two of his likenesses and his departure was all my fault. The former because well, the status quo – drugs and greed strangling Six slowly to death – overrides love and I need sponsors.

It's a sour way of thinking about it, but it really is above me and out of my hands.

"But at least he left you two children." Marceline gestures to the screen above which showcases a photo of my boys – Luci and Cyril posing with our bulldog Chevy. Cyril smiles pleasantly with his Panemian boy charms while Lucius, his hair dressed in pomade, in his favorite jeans and leather jacket sticks his tongue out with one eyelid pulled down. I sigh, removing my eyes from the photo. Sure they were in good hands with my parents, but every child needs a mother in their life one way or another. I could only imagine how spoiled they'd get.

I laugh sadly. "Those are my boys...I love them so very much."

"They're like night and day." Jokes Marceline. "The prep and the greaser."

"You're not wrong." I trill in reply. "We like to say that Cyril takes after me while Luci takes after his father."

Thinking about it almost makes the tears come back. Cyril, ever so discreet about my going's on while Luci – too young to dabble in such things – leads his own pack of troublesome friends with an iron fist. He's definitely going to be a troublemaker regardless if I'm there or not. They were good kids, they don't often show softness but if the goodbyes were any indication – the worst happening would ruin them, despite my protestations pleading for them to continue doing well.

"I imagine you're quite the tiger mama." Marceline wonders behind coy eyes and a light smirk. "You'd probably do anything to get back to them."

"We both know how true that statement is..." I reply wryly as the audience giggles along.

"And you have an interesting team helping you...Izzy, Koller, Silvia, Flo...?" Marceline says. "How are they doing? They did win last year, so it's only natural to ask."

I cast a glance toward them – Izzy in particular – who smiles brightly. "They're all perfect. Flo is on the ball with sponsoring and preparing me for tonight and Koller and Silvia offer general advice. Izzy however seems really invested in the whole thing. I can see why she won."

Marceline and the crowd offer heavy applause as the nineteen-year-old begins to blush, afflicted with yet another tic.

"That's great. The victors of Six are a rather eccentric trio for sure. I'm not sure how Flo corrals them all the time." Marceline snickers. As the laughter dies down, her face turns serious. "So you and Theilan eh, how will you guys navigate the Games?"

"I imagine we'll regroup and stay together as long as time permits. We both have things we'd like to get back home to, and as I stated prior, it's nice to have a reliable partner."

"How will you guys handle potential conflict? For example, it's noted that you have been a little...standoffish about alliances..."

"Alliances have an expiration date, Marceline." I snort in reply. Even though I wasn't, I couldn't help but feel slighted by that. As if being cautious around literal strangers in a DEATH MATCH was a negative. "And if a tribute isn't lucky enough to have the right partners, their expiry date will be right around the corner. Like I said, it'll be better for the two of us to stick together."

"What about the physicality aspect? Not to put down a sister or anything," Marceline chuckles. "But a 6 seems suitable for you, but a 6 for Theilan? Who's the fighter of your group?"

"Theilan isn't a pushover. Most people with 'lower' scores end up performing above their station. If he wants a positive outcome for himself, I imagine he knows full well what he needs to do. He just seems like the type of tribute to navigate the Games using alternative means."

"What about you?" asks Marceline. "I imagine that your occupation has jumpstarted your preparedness for these Games?"

I give the older woman a singular, solid nod. Then there's me. Though the Careers may have seen me on the first day, I doubt they were keeping track, let alone the other tributes which is exactly what I want. "Yes. My score is a clear reflection of some of the skills I will take in with me. I'd like to say I am prepared. I know what needs to be done. All I hope for is a little luck."

"Well, as we come to the end of our time together, allow me to wish you the best of luck." She rises from her desk and gestures to me. "Ladies and gentlemen, wasn't she great – Zahira Kazimirova!"

"Thank you for the opportunity, Marceline." I join the Master of Ceremonies in a friendly handshake before politely waving towards the audience. Truly, that could've gone much worse...but it didn't, thank the gods.

With this out of the way it's time to think ahead now, as if I haven't been already.

Theilan Caldron, 34
District 6 Male

I exchange a quick smile with Zahira as Marceline introduces me, unbuttoning my jacket as I stride onto the stage proper. It was an out-of-body experience for sure. Everything from the lights, the cheers from the thousands of people watching and finally meeting the host – Marceline Devereaux after years of watching her on holovision – felt surreal. She was surprisingly fairly tall and slender, only a head shorter than I was.

"Theilan, welcome welcome!" Marceline greets warmly as she takes my hand and pumps it. I've overheard from various tributes that her eyes were something else. I agree wholeheartedly. The light blue of her irises meant that her pupils were pronounced, making her gaze even more intense.

"Thank you Marceline...It's nice to meet you in real life." I reply, taking my seat on the sofa opposite to her desk.

"The pleasure is all mine." She purrs in return, gesturing to my suit. "The colour fits you very well."

"Thank you." I say. It was a dark purple, three-piece suit with a black tie, shoes and pocket square. If there's one thing I enjoy about this city, it's their penchant for color. It was nice to get away from the charcoal and light gray suits that dominated Six's business attire.

"Now, there seems to be a lot of compare and contrast with your district partner Zahira..." Marceline says. "Where she is a general doctor, you are...?"

"A counselor." I answer her. "A psychiatrist, to be technical."

"Ahh...a shrink!" Marceline exclaims with a snap of her finger. "How is that, working in Six as a counselor I mean."

"I enjoy working and aiding people from all walks of life." I answer. "The clinic I work at is located in an interesting spot – between downtown and the suburbs. No matter what, regardless of the class divide, everyone seems to have the same problems..."

"What problems are those?" Marceline asks.

"That everyone seems to be in their own little world – caught up in the rat race while not maintaining themselves properly..." to many in the district, chems are what they do to 'maintain themselves'. It's an unfortunate cycle.

"That seems to be a problem everywhere. Work work work, the dash never seems to end." Marceline agrees with a hum. "What about that Bohemian movement, do you support it? They seem to proscribe a 'slow down' approach to life."

"I enjoy certain aspects of it – philosophical talks, developing hobbies and the like. For example, District Six's art scene is amazing. Have you been to Milliken Park?"

"Yes I have." Marceline nods with a smile. "The displays are out of sight, especially that of Six's own Silvia Starr and Koller Ascort."

"Exactly, this is a positive outlet for them and others within the district. So yes, people like Wondr'a for example have it right that we ought to take care of ourselves more. I see this isn't much of a problem in the Capitol maybe, but in the districts – especially Six – interpersonal engagement is something we need a little bit more of."

"It'll be interesting to see how that movement grows as the decade continues..." Marceline says over the applause of the audience. "I enjoy your opinion, Theilan. With how articulate you are, I could see why you were able to disarm that hairy situation during your reaping scene. It touched the hearts of many observers here in the Capitol and at home or so I hear..."

"I just didn't want to see Six punished for something that was out of our control." I answer honestly. I didn't want to be the reason for others' suffering and pain. "The destruction and inevitable backlash would just end up hurting more people."

"I agree. Speaking of punish, what's your take on the skirmishes occurring in various districts? They cite unfairness with the reaping algorithm among other grievances..."

"With all due respect, Marceline, they aren't wrong. I just hope that if there is an increase in violence, the Capitol tries to listen instead of retaliate. Previous tributes have brought up very good points..."

"Such as the Capitol deserving to be war-ravaged?" Marceline asks with a quirked brow.

"Well, not exactly in his case – as sheer anger won't fix anything." I respond. "What I'm saying is that Panem has been in social limbo for about a hundred years now – barring the War in between. People yearn for actualization and I believe that the Quell – and other issues besides that – are in the way of that."

I'm surprised that no one is booing, just lots of chatter. Even looking at the faces in the audience, there are no glares, just lopsided nods and faces scrounged in thought. The presidential box only yields blank stares.

"I understand..." Marceline nods. "But we still exist don't we? Shouldn't Panemians be grateful for what they have? We could be like the rest of the world – in disarray?"

"Just 'existing' with some 'things to do' doesn't work very well, but I digress." I relent. She doesn't quite get it. But with Marceline being from the Capitol, I don't expect her to fully understand even with her educated background. It's weird – she's caught in an interesting paradox.

She's open to hearing about the plight of the districts, yet is resistant to it at the same time. I think there's good in her. It's her environment - and all her years living in it - holding her back.

Marceline holds my gaze with a coy smirk on her lips. "Good talk Theilan...I think you've given us plenty to think about. I wonder what Zahira thinks about your talks, as you two do work in the same clinic. How is she as a coworker?"

Come to think of it, of all the years we've known each other, I've barely scratched Zahira's surface. Neha probably knows more than I do, but not by a lot. She does throw herself headlong into her work, even more so after Virgil's unfortunate death. I assume that she likes to keep her personal life private from her public one. I think we would both agree in saying that we were on friendly terms – now more than ever. "She's uh, very dedicated – almost too dedicated. But in a district like Six, we kind of have to be."

Marceline nods as the crowd applauds. "Are you dedicated?"

More than you know, Marceline. "You have to be – doing what I do." I answer. Life in Six can be very stressful. It even shows in our teenage tributes when we send them here. "I try to set people straight as best as I can."

At times, it's like pulling weeds. You pull one person off the edge, twenty more are about to take the plunge. It's hard when no one seems to care and your resources are somewhat finite. You can't just schedule once-a-month check-ins and leave it at that. I take the time to be consistent with everyone I meet. It results in more cases being solved than lost and less time laying awake at night contemplating how you could have done things differently.

"That seems to line up with what people back at home say about you and Zahira." Marceline agrees. "People seem thankful for your work."

Then why REAP us?! You know how much we mean to our communities yet you go ahead and select authors, fathers, reputable young people and doctors?! Then you guys have the audacity to say that people are rebellious for acting out violently?

I simply offer a sad smile. "I like to see myself as an instrument to their success, not the outright reason. I accept their praise, but don't bathe in it. Change comes from within most of the time."

Applause. "Why the humbleness from Six this year?" Marceline jeers, glancing towards the audience and then shrugging. "You guys must grow into it or something because normal tributes from Six are anything but humble – except you Izzy." More laughter and cheers from the audience. "I hear your wife works with you too?"

"Neha – yes, she does." I breathe, the thoughts of Neha bringing on an odd mixture of sadness and elation. "I can't begin to tell you how amazing it is to live and work with someone who shares the same passions as you do."

My head fills with countless moments of baking, aiding in her knitting or engaging in professional research – our version of the perfect date night. Sure, we have our rough spots like many couples, but all were good memories. Yet the ability to create more has a potential to be snuffed out – and for what really?

"You two have a son together and another child on the way..." Marceline says with worry in her voice.

"Yes we do." I reply solemnly. "Though I know she'd do a great job raising them, I'd like to return and be there for them."

It's like me and my old man all over again, but this time Tanav will be too young to have proper memories of me and Aesha will only know of me from memories of others. Again, there weren't any relatives of high-ranking rebels to reap this year...?

Marceline nods. "Having such a tight-knit alliance should aid you in doing that...However, you are aware that as the numbers dwindle..."

"Yes, I'm more than aware, but any outcomes are out of my hands." More like I didn't want to talk about that. It was a mutt in the room. A mutt that Zahira and I didn't want to confront just yet or even at all from what I see. We haven't even spoken about it. It's a bridge we'll have to cross very soon.

"That's fair. Just focusing on what's in front of you is often the best strategy." She admits. "What about that training score...does your occupation loan to any in-Games skill?"

"I joked to Zahira a few days ago that I'd use my words as a weapon of choice." I reply, a small chuckle escaping my lips as the crowd laughs along. I wasn't entirely joking. Everyone talks about the stakes being so high and violence being the only response, but I imagine that people value living just a little bit longer too. That's were reasoning comes in. If there's anything I'm good at, it's reasoning. "But no, I just showcased what I learned and left it at that."

"Mhm...I've heard from our Gamemaker friends that you had certain...inhibitions." Marceline noted with a playful tone while wagging her finger at me. "Though I don't doubt your perceptive abilities, I would keep your weapon handy just in case. Something tells me that although a viable way of doing things, the tributes this year aren't so keen on reasoning with their opponents."

I give a non-committal grunt in return. I'd like to believe that not everyone will lose their inhibitions once the gong goes off. I know I won't. It's rare, but humanity does shine through the darkness of the arena – and I aim to keep my humanity for as long as possible.

Tuesday Suetos, 44
District 5 Female

"And now, we're onto District 5 – Power, among other things. Like Piper Malveaux of the present and Finch Emerson of yesteryear, the tributes here always seem to have a quirk to them...Maybe it's all the static in the air, I dunno."

From the stage edge, I let a groan escape my lips as Marceline's puppet audience let out another round of laughter. Don't they ache from their constant sniggering...?

"Their female seems to be no different this time around. Please join me in welcoming Tuesday Suetos to the stage!"

With that being said and done, I quickly enter the stage proper and wave to the audience with the same speed. Marceline attempts to side hug me, but instead, I offer a handshake. We were not properly acquainted for hugs. Also, prior study of her mannerisms while in the lounge prompts me to think that she is a rather domineering person. Not in terms of physicality but mentality. One should never be at ease with a Hunger Games host, for obvious reasons.

"Hi Tuesday, that's quite the outfit you have on!" Marceline offers.

I glance down at the stupid thing I'm currently wearing. It was a nurses dress through and through with a bright red cross on the chest of the apron. It was the epitome of 'on the nose'. "I hate it."

"Why?" Marceline snickers, her gaggle joining her.

"Because, I'm a surgeon, not a nurse." I grumbled. "My job is to patch you back up, not heal you back to health."

Marceline frowns. "Surgeons heal..."

My thoughts fill with burnt husks and irradiated flesh-bags with insides resembling a hot pocket. "Not in Five they don't."

"I take it you've seen a many great deal of things while doing your job?"

I nod. "Far too many." I reply. "Which is why I would've rather been dressed up as a grim reaper than a nurse..." when nobody seems to laugh, I add "...That's a joke of course."

The crowd chortles hesitantly while Marceline simpers lowly. I'm unsure why they're apprehensive. We're celebrating one hundred years of death. "We'll get back to that in a second. But first, let's talk about Tuesday the person! What do you do in your free time?"

"Cut people open." I deadpan, earning laughter from the audience. It was true. There is very little free time with a job like mine. At this point, doing procedures was a hobby in of itself.

"No really, what do you like to do?"

"Find sarcastic things to say." The laughter amplifies and I swear for the first time in a long time, I smirk. When Marceline shakes her head, I relent, answering "I enjoy spending time with my Capitol Shorthair cat."

"I demand to know its name!" Marceline gushes, leaning forward on her desk.

"Doctor Whiskers." I murmur, twiddling my index fingers as I endure the onslaught of giggles that come from the audience. To my surprise, they show a picture of him, which prompts the onlookers to coo and awwh in response. Of all the things to miss in the event of my death, Dr. Whiskers is on the top of the list. I hope Marissa takes proper care of him. Knowing her, she'll probably paint more murals of him.

"What a cutie he is. I'm more of a dog person but cats are interesting too." Marceline comments with a shrug and a goofy smile. "A big brain like you has to read, what do you like?"

"Well...I had a Stephen King fetish before this." I admit. I had shelves upon shelves of books back home. My local library will be delighted to receive them if it comes to that. Still, the thought of never seeing my books again saddens me.

There are a couple of claps in the audience as Marceline's eyes twinkle with surprise. "Oooh, what's your favorite?"

"It has to be Misery." I nod. More sporadic cheers from the audience...I'm surprised there are so many Capitolites of substance in one place.

Nodding, Marceline smirks while humming in agreement. "I prefer The Mist. They're remaking the movie you know."

I cross one leg over the other. "You'll have to summon me on an ouija board and tell me all about it."

A slight smirk appears on my lips as they all begin laughing again. I can't help myself, honestly. I think of it as a coping mechanism more than anything else. Marceline doesn't seem to mind though as she chuckles loudly, her groupies along with her.

"You are quite the card, Tuesday." She beams. "I can see why Mr. Jaxter is endeared to you!"

Kanton... "Endeared to me?" I repeat. Goofy Kanton Jaxter, who chats a zillion words per minute and can't take a hint likes me...Interesting. Perhaps my dislike of connections rendered me blind to the hints. What a shame.

"He likes you very much, my people say. Says you're a unique person – which is true, I find."

Surprisingly...Some way, somehow, I find myself feeling sorry for him. Just for him, I turn my attention to the cameras. "Dr. Jaxter is a nice man and I wish him well."

"What about your family and other coworkers?

"I assume they'll be fine without me – my coworkers I mean." I reply. My mother and father were rather upset, but again, they'll be ok if the worst should happen. "My sister is quite popular on the art scene as you may know. She'll take good care of our parents."

"Oh yes, Marissa Suetos! Her art pieces are quite popular...especially with me as you can see."

The screen above us showcases an art piece centered on Marceline herself, her face in varied colored variations. The crowd eats it up, as per usual. At least the Suetos name will carry on with some form of positivity.

"So Tuesday..." Marceline muses, glancing down from the screen to me. "Let's get back to your 'grim reaper' comment. I bet that won't be a joke once the gong goes off."

"I suppose not." I answer.

"It's a common opinion among Games fanatics to assume that non-Careers sporting a 7 have a very specialized skill set...So I'll take you at your word." Marceline teases with a gentle smack of her desk. "What about alliances? Surely you need someone to watch your back?"

"I have been proposed multiple times." I reply to numerous "Ooohs" from the crowd.

"So I hear...But you declined them. Why is that?" Marceline asks. "Especially the other doctors, all of us here were looking forward to seeing that."

"I apologize to those of you out there who were anticipating such an alliance. I just prefer to work alone, especially in a Games like these. The stakes are far too high."

"That's a smart mentality to carry – a fair mentality at that." Marceline comments with a slight nod. "Would you consider teaming in the area if it suited you?"

A knowing smirk spreads across my lips. "Perhaps I've made a mutual agreement or two..."

"There we go! That's one more thing to look forward too!" Marceline cheers. "With that being said, do you consider yourself prepared for tomorrow's festivities?"

I offer a simple nod. "I am very much prepared to utilize my skill in the arena as soon as possible."

I mean, what else is there to say? All that's left is the arena and twenty four pieces of walking meat waiting to be cut open – some of which by me.

Geronimo Busan, 24
District 5 Male

As I smile at her, Tuesday only offers me a blank glance before returning backstage. Sure she was a little...brusque, but part of me couldn't help but feel sorry for her. If anything, her interview showed me that everyone has interesting quirks. All a guy has to do is invest a little time to find out. Although in Tuesday's case, not many people seem to take the time out to do so.

"Next up, we have the male half of this duo. You'll find this next tribute to be an interesting contender for the crown for numerous reasons, as we'll find out right now. Please welcome Geronimoooooooooo Busan!"

Piercing through my nerves was a sharp laughter. It's been so long since someone poked fun of my name like that, it caught me off guard. I immediately greet Marceline, hugging her from the side while using my free hand to greet the laughing and cheering crowd.

As suckish as the situation is...it wouldn't help me to stomp out here like Ricardo did. No one has seen him since his whole ordeal.

"Do you get that a lot?" Marceline asks me as the cheers die down. She gestures to the sofa.

"Not recently, no." I answer, taking my seat. "I was happy to hear it though."

"Well, I'm glad I could brighten up your day." Marceline chirps while waving a hand toward my suit. "Nice duds by the by..."

"It's always a treat to dress formally."I reply. You couldn't go wrong with a navy and brown houndstooth suit with a brown turtleneck underneath and matching pocket square.

"So, as I was saying to the crowd just now, you seem to be one of the tributes better suited for the arena. Do you care to explain why?"

"Well, I'm an explorer – a tour guide – for the University of Panem, but being an explorer is the same thing, I say." I reply with a light chuckle. The crowd seems to find this amusing too.

"So you tour students around former arenas?"

"Yep." And I could be doing it now if I wasn't chosen. I don't know too much about my dad – who is unfortunately a contributing cause to my reaping percentile and selection – but I do know that he wasn't a rebel of significance, or so my mother tells me. If anything, shouldn't I be what young people aspire to be, law abiding and hard-working?

"Which arenas are your favorites?"

"The urban ones," I answer. "HG 76, 77 and 99 for example. Besides the Games that occurred there, there's a lot of artifacts and stories to be told among them." I point towards the Host. "What about you Marceline?"

Marceline gestures around her, earning laughter from the audience. "I'm partial to this one and this year's – when we see it of course! HG 76 was amazing and 95 was neat too."

I make a show of shuddering. "Oh...That one gave me nightmares for weeks..."

Everyone in school was talking about those Games for the longest while. Not only did you have to contend with live tributes, but the undead too. Rafaela Novia – the victor of those Games – was one tough fifteen year old.

"Those Games were truly something." A jokingly frightful Marceline agrees. "So, what do these excursions do for you in terms of right now?"

"Well, being exposed to different biomes opens me to a variety of skills."

"Such as...?"

"You know...general survival." I reply with the smallest hint of a shrug. "Where people say that tributes from certain districts know how to survive because of their industry, I have practical experience from actually being in those biomes."

"I see. And because of this love for travel, people have a nickname for you..."

"They call me Gio – you know, like geography?"

"It suits you." Marceline says, grinning from ear to ear. "So when finally come home from your travels and you put up your hat, what else do you do?"

"Well, I am a pet guy..." I reply meekly.

Marceline raises her brow with surprise. "Are you now, whaddya got?"

"Well, there's Pheonix the ferret...Perry the parrot and Abraham the hamster." I chuckle slightly when the girls in the audience twitter with glee.

"Chicks dig a man who loves animals..." remarks Marceline with a wink. "Who'll take care of them?"

"My mama will." I answer. She loves them just as much as she loves me. Thinking about her all alone in her house tending to them if the worst does happen upsets me.

"Your mama eh, tell me – what would you do if you took the crown?"

"Mama is definitely coming with me to Victor's Village that's for sure." I answer. "Though personally, I'd like to go farther with my travels. Instead of just going around Panem, I'd go beyond that. I hear Annabelle Starling and Celosia Vale often do that."

Marceline, her face lit with surprise, points a finger toward me. "Yes, they do – I almost forgot! Yes, both Annabelle and Celosia are quite adventurous, you'd fit in well. You're well on your way to seeing this dream through, as that training score is quite impressive."

I nod while the crowd cheers. "Thanks, I was actually pretty surprised when I got it..." I say.

"Do you mind sharing what you did?"

"Oh you know, I explained my knowledge of arena's and my strategies...and, I showcased my skill with a mace."

The crowd gasps. "You, using a mace?" Marceline exclaims.

"Yeah, why not!?" I blurt, shrugging as the audience laughs. "I've seen them in books all the time since I was a kid. I'm here now, so why not try them out?"

The audience applauds as Marceline nods and hums in agreement. "Let's see here, you've got the weapon...you got some of the skill...what about allies?" she asks, listing off each one.

"You've already met 'em all. But as for what I think, I'm glad to call Linden and Chris allies. They both have a lot of potential. Laelia was a new addition, but when I watched her before she got with us, she seemed decent enough. Donna – or uh Ludra – she's very supportive...Snow Islander's are great additions to alliances."

Most of that was true. Except for Donna...she was very standoffish to everyone except Chris and sometimes Laelia, no matter how much I tried being friendly to her, she only puts a quarter of the effort back. She never really did train, only watched. If she was planning to mooch, she has another thing coming.

Marceline caught onto something maybe, as a slight grin spreads across her lips. "With so any people, can you really trust any of them? You all seem so varied..."

"Alliances are, like you said previously, a limited time thing. They'll change constantly as people fall..."

"And what if they fall because of one of you?" Marceline interjects. "People may seem friendly now, but when you least expect it..."

"I try not to think about that. Sure, that's a bad strategy, but it's also a bad strategy to constantly worry." I reply. I feel emboldened when Marceline nods along, so I continue. "I prefer allowing the currents to take me where they may lead."

Just like with this entire ordeal. All we can do is accept the hand we get and attempt to adapt.