Lustre Audemar-Miucca, District One
As he waited for the ceremony to start, Lustre couldn't help but wonder why such an important occasion couldn't have better chairs. He was sitting in a hard, cheap folding chair that they already had laying around the Academy's auditorium, placed on the stage right behind the podium so he could see the dozen or so other trainees gathered on the main floor.
"Now I know you all have heard the news of the mini quell by now." The Headmaster said, feedback on his microphone squealing slightly, "And I imagine some of you may be thinking of volunteering."
Amber Black lacked the composure he did, so as she sat next to him she shifted back and forth on the uncomfortable seat, fidgeting with a butterfly nervously. He flashed her a comforting smile and she calmed down somewhat. Which was for the best, really. Lustre was only a few minutes away from stabbing her.
"Is there any reason we shouldn't volunteer?" A voice he recognized as Baron Margenium the Fifth asked. Of course he would say something. The whiny little suckup.
Headmaster Baron Margenium the Fourth chuckled slightly, "Technically, no. But there can only be one winner, no? Which means if half of the tributes are from One, half of the losses will be too. Plus, the other districts should have a chance at the glory, eh?"
The man laughed again, loud and booming. Lustre laughed with him, although he didn't find it particularly amusing. He had worked hard to get to the position of designated volunteer. He beat every single rival, whether directly or indirectly, in order to sit on the stage in a horrible chair listening to the Headmaster of the academy explain how those rivals could steal his thunder.
"We have been in contact with District Two." The headmaster continued, "And have come up with a rather elegant solution. For the first two drawn names, our designated volunteers Lustre and Amber will volunteer. The next two names shall be two volunteers from District Two. If someone else from District One gets reaped, then one of our alternates shall volunteer."
The Headmaster grinned over to where Lustre was sure the man's son was sitting, and it made his blood boil a little. However he wasn't going to comment on it. He was going to sit there and be a beautiful shining beacon of what District One could be. Besides, very few people in District one needed tesserae. Most likely the reaping bowls would favor outer districts. He had nothing to worry about yet. It would be best to save his nervousness for reaping day.
Actually, he had nothing to worry about at all. None of the other boys here snagged the top slot for the district. And no one could charm the Capitol and other tributes alike like he could. Lustre was at his best with people, and as Ashlar from District Three had proven last year, the tributes in the Hunger Games were just as susceptible to manipulation as anyone else.
He had nothing to worry about.
"And what if more than two District One names are pulled?" he asked. It was unlikely, but it was useful to prepare for all possible scenarios. He was already compiling a list in his head about who he may need to deal with in the unlikely event that someone from District One was reaped. Amber's backup was an excitable girl named Verity. He was kind to her often, and she repaid him with loyalty. It might even be preferable to have someone besides Amber in the games that he already knew he could control. Unfortunately, his own backup wasn't quite as malleable.
The Headmaster jumped slightly, as if he had forgotten that Lustre and Amber were on the stage. "Well if that happens, I suppose it will come down to whoever volunteers first." he turned back to the rest of the audience, "You all have my blessing at that point. Now have a good day everyone, and may the odds be ever in our favor!"
Lustre didn't need odds. He had talent, and that was far more rare.
Allyson Thimblewhitte, District Two
Ally leaned against the wall casually, filing her nails as a redheaded career candidate flew out of the administration office. She hadn't bothered to learn her name. She didn't know most of her other trainees now that she thought about it. Fifteen people, seven girls, and she couldn't say that she had a single friend. The only people who she even recognized were the ones that used to bully her.
Not that anyone did that anymore. Two boys who had managed to snag some of the few chairs in the hallway chuckled to each other over a joke she couldn't quite hear. She shot them an icy glance and they instantly fell silent. Ally had to admit that she enjoyed the fact that she could scare people now. It was much better to be on this side of the power dynamic, she decided.
"Allyson Thimblewhitte." The secretary called. She pushed herself off of the wall, then with a practiced ease threw her nail file. It embedded itself in the wall three inches away from the head of the closest boy. She smiled to herself. Perhaps it was uncalled for, but it was incredibly satisfying to scare people.
Inside the Administration office, five people sat at a long desk. This was this year's council. The members were different each year, but they were always either trainers, victors, or someone with a similar profession. Last year the Head Peacekeeper was part of the council, and had recommended his daughter. Ally wondered if he regretted it now.
"Allyson, we have just finished looking over your records." An older woman with a stern face said, "It's not exactly conventional is it?"
"Lots of people are late bloomers." she replied, "It doesn't matter that I started on the bottom, does it?"
"There's also the matter of your Social grades." the woman continued.
Ally tried not to scream out of frustration. Social grades were barely anything, and everyone in District Two knew it. Yet the teachers always tried to get everyone to take it seriously. She had taken it seriously, when she was younger. But it only added ammunition to those who mocked her. She had enough going on with her brother leaving, doing who knew what, without being interested in a field that was only going to her teased more. Perhaps if she was good at it, she would have stuck with it. But Ally was always awkward with words. She was unflappable now, something that her social teacher managed to praise her for, but she was never quite sure what to say.
Like now.
"I think my work speaks for itself." she answered, "A bad interview isn't going to kill me."
"Any other year and we may agree with you. But this year, we don't know the makeup of the tributes. We've created a truce with District One, but Three or Four could send volunteers en masse and outshine you easily."
The woman had a point. She looked down, kicked an imaginary pebble with her shoe, and decided to let her guard down. It was a risk, and a dangerous one.
"Please. Just give me a chance." She pleaded, "You have my files, so you probably know about my parents. And my brother. Things have finally sort of stabilized at my home, and I'm doing better. I'm doing so much better. And I'm not great at speaking maybe, but all of this going on with me means I have a story. So maybe I'm not the most eloquent. But I'm not going to forgotten"
Ally wasn't exactly expecting a response, but the lack of one was a bit disappointing. All five members of the council stared at her, stone faced. Finally, a man on the end spoke.
"I think we have heard enough. Allyson Thimblewhitte, are you prepared to receive your number?" he said.
"I am sir."
"And you promise to volunteer no earlier or later than your assigned order according to the guidelines we have already outlined?"
"I do sir."
"Very well then." the man smiled wryly, "Congratulations Allyson. You are District Two's top female candidate."
For a moment, Ally thought that she was going to faint. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Were… were you just messing with me? Did you decide I was going in from the start."
"We did." the man answered, "But it's a bit of a rite of passage to leave you hanging for a bit."
Ally very much didn't appreciate that, it felt too much like another form of bullying. But she was too happy to reply.
Frazier Nelson, District Three
It was nine in the morning, an academy wide assembly had been called, and Frazier Nelson was hungover.
He had played a gig last night, and spent most of the time afterwards with a boy whose name he couldn't remember. He probably should have, as he had his name tattooed on his chest. Or was that the name of an ex girlfriend? The boy had told him, but Frazier hadn't cared. It was an inconsequential detail of a typical night. A pleasant enough night, he supposed. At the very least it was full of distractions.
But all distractions came with a price. His seemed to be having to deal with an auditorium full of rowdy teenagers as his head felt like someone had driven a screwdriver through it. He took a moment to actually think about what he would look like with a screwdriver sticking out of his temple. It was interesting and visceral. Perhaps he would find a way to incorporate it into his act.
One of the trainers tapped on a microphone and the noise began to die down. "Thank you for meeting us all here on such short notice. We know that it is only a week until the end of school, and you're all ready to be finished. But given the nature of this year's quell, we put together a short presentation for you all."
There were some whoops and hollers, which made Frazier wince, and the woman brought out a projector. After a few minutes of fiddling, overly cheerful music began to play and the words 'The Mini Quell and You' splashed onto the screen. It continued on with stock footage of students training as a male voice narrated.
"Here at the District Three academy, we believe in honor, and patriotism, but most of all we believe in saving lives. Thanks to our training and your dedication, no child from District Three will ever need to go into the Hunger Games against their will."
This was all pretty standard rhetoric, and Frazier would have tuned it out if it wasn't so damn loud. Perhaps if he was smart about it he could sneak out of the auditorium and sleep this off somewhere while the rest of the academy was preoccupied.
"This year, the Mini Quell presents us with a fascinating opportunity: a possibility to have no one go into the Hunger Games at all. So while we understand many of you may be eager to show the world what you have learned here, we urge you to think seriously about volunteering for the 94th Hunger Games."
Frazier almost laughed out loud. He had already planned on volunteering, but this presentation made him realize just how perfect it was. It was possible to have no one in a district go to the Games. Likely even, since most of the slips probably went to poor districts like Eleven and Twelve. Most likely the other career districts were getting a similar lecture. There wouldn't be a strong Career pack, and the vast majority of the tributes would be poor outer district kids with no training at all.
He would be this year's champion of the Hunger Games. And he wouldn't even have to work for it. Once he won, he could play in front of the President. The Capitol would fall in love with him practically overnight, and he would be even more of a musical sensation than he already was. It was perfect. His life was perfect.
At least that was what he told himself. Perhaps if he kept saying it, he could pretend he wasn't drowning.
AN: We're in to actual tributes! Are you excited? I'm excited. This chapter we got Lustre by LC-It-gets-better-alt-account, Ally by 3077 and Frazier by Paradigm of Writing. Also a lot of logistics. People asked me how careers work, and well… now you know. For those who want to know how Four handled the volunteer thing… they did not care. They were just like 'do what you want' and had no formal plan at all. I respect that a bit. Anyway, thank you so much for reading. Please review!