Modus Pigeon, 13, District 6 Male POV

I can't move.

I'm curled up in the hospital bed, trying to protect myself. All I can think about is the shard of glass tearing through my skin. The girl who used to be my ally - my friend - stabbing at me, again and again.

"Modus," a woman's voice says. "Are you okay? You're shaking."

"I-I'm scared," I stutter.

"Okay," The woman says, gently. "It's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Slowly, I uncurl myself and sit up. There's a woman with red hair and brown eyes standing beside my bed. She looks sad.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I'm Becky," the woman says. "I know I don't look like her but it's been twenty-four years-"

Rage floods my body. That's the girl who betrayed me! I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I can't breathe.

For a moment, I black out. When I come to, my hands are wrapped around the Becky's throat.

"Let's see how you like being murdered to death!" I scream.

Becky puts her hands on my shoulders and shoves me away. Before I can retaliate, I'm grabbed from behind by a peacekeeper.

"Let me fight her!" I yell. "I want to kill her."

Becky sighs. "You're not allowed to kill me, Modus. I'm a victor now. Plus I've been dealing with my kids having tantrums for years. I'm really sorry for killing you. I only did it because we were in the final two and I was scared. But now you've got another chance and I want to help you. Can you forgive me?"

"Never!" I spit, struggling in the peacekeeper's grip.

"Okay," Becky says. "Maybe you just need to take a time out. That's okay. I've got all the time in the world. You've got six days before the Quell begins. You're the one setting the pace."

Her voice is steady but there are tears in her eyes. I smile.

"Did I make you cry?" I taunt.

Becky looks absolutely exhausted. "Take him away," she tells the peacekeeper. "I don't want to talk to him until he's calmed down."

"Okay, ma'am," the peacekeeper begins to drag me away. All I can do is kick and scream.

I might be foiled for now but I'm going to make that traitor pay for what she did to me.

Splendour Rimbaud, 18, District 1 Male POV

June, 57 A.T.T., aged 18...

I can feel everyone's eyes on me as I move the bishop across the board. It comes to rest between Merlot's rook and his knight. I withdraw my hand and look up into Merlot's steely, blue eyes.

This is the final game of the District 1 Training Academy Chess Tournament. It's not an official thing, just a little tradition that academy boys have been following for years. The day before the final arena strategy exam, all the hopefuls for male volunteer meet up to play chess.

Merlot and I have been fighting hard for this all night. There can only be one victor.

Merlot pushes his queen forwards.

"Checkmate," he says. There's a cheer throughout the room.

I've lost the match.

"That's not fair!" I cry. "Can I have a rematch?"

"Don't be a sore loser," Merlot sneers. "I won the tournament, fair and square."

"What if we're not playing for the tournament?" I ask. "I'll let you have your victory. All I want is another chance to beat you."

"You won't," Merlot says, coldly.

"What if there's something in it for you?" I ask, reaching into my backpack and pulling out a bottle. "One bottle of whiskey, imported from Nine. I was going to drink it to celebrate my victory over you. But since you won, you might as well have it. There's an old saying in the Rimbaud family. 'Drink when you win and you know how to celebrate. Drink when you lose and you're a sad alcoholic.' If you win, you get my whiskey. If I win, I keep my whiskey and my dignity."

"Deal," Merlot says. "As long as I'm white."

"You can be white," I say.

We set up the board as the crowd of students around us start placing bets.

"Why are you smiling, Rimbaud?" Merlot asks. "I'm going to destroy you again."

"I'm thinking about the sweet, sweet taste of victory," I tap the side of my bottle.

I'm not lying.

Merlot is my biggest competitor in more than one way. We're both the favourites to become this year's male volunteer. The only problem is that I'm bad at written exams. My dyslexia makes every paper an uphill battle. Merlot, on the other hand, is an exam machine. He has a photographic memory.

I'm no expert on photography but I'd say that emptying a bottle of whiskey in the developing fluid will probably ruin the photograph.

A truly great strategist knows that, sometimes, a battle must be lost to win the war. I lost that match against Merlot on purpose and, as he moves his first pawn out, I know I'll lose this one. But, after his victory, Merlot will probably get drunk, forgetting that he has an exam tomorrow. He'll show up hungover and get a disappointing grade. Meanwhile, I'll go home, check my notes and go to bed early. I'll wake up, refreshed and ready to succeed.

To be honest, if Merlot has absolutely no inkling that I'm playing him like a game of chess, he's unlikely to pass that exam anyway. Memorising strategies from books is unlikely to help at all in the arena. Just like finding reading hard is unlikely to hinder me.

The exam is useless but I'm going to pass it anyway. And I'm going to make sure that my biggest rival fails.

I will be the chosen volunteer. I will be victorious.

District 5's tributes are definitely an odd pair. There's a reason why Modus is so aggressive. It'll probably become more clear later on but Modus isn't quite himself and there's more to it than just trauma. There's one thing that makes Modus different to every other tribute so far. See if you can figure out what it is.

As for Splendour, he's another schemer. I don't think I covered his exact death in any of my other stories but he got shot by one of Elisabeta's poison arrows. Now imagine Splendour and Elisabeta teaming up...